


zeugaz (with you)

by wishuponanightsky



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, F/F, Happy Ending, Love at First Sight (sort of), Slow Burn, Winter, cheating (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27328318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishuponanightsky/pseuds/wishuponanightsky
Summary: Raquel is twenty-four, but she's already tired of life. Her job, her boyfriend, nothing is right.One night, she discovers a pub that she'd never heard of—and the owner is as mysterious as she is beautiful.But Raquel has never been brave. Does she have what it takes to turn her life around?
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Alberto Vicuña (short lived dw), Raquel Murillo/Alicia Sierra
Comments: 51
Kudos: 107





	1. La Guarida de la Bruja

The sound of Alberto's voice followed Raquel into the corridor and she barely managed to close the bathroom door behind her before the tears left her eyes, leaving burning trails in their wake. It was nothing unusual to hear Alberto's venom directed at her but it was becoming more and more frequent, and her defences were getting weaker by the day. Surprise had been replaced by anger, but anger was now giving way to undisputable sadness. They'd had chemistry, they'd stolen kisses here and there, and Raquel had thought she was living a fairytale.

There was no reason why her boss would take a liking to her, but he had, and she saw it now for the curse that it was, all illusions of blessing washed away by Alberto's efforts to keep their relationship secret from everyone at the police station—putting her down, criticising her reports in front of everyone and belittling her every chance got. Thankfully, he didn’t know that Ángel knew, otherwise Raquel had no idea what he would do.

She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and splashed some water on her face. The worst part of it all was that she still had feelings for the man. Thankfully, they hadn't been together long enough for her to fall in love (that would have been a sticky situation), but she cared for him, admired him both professionally and personally, and there was no denying that there had been some physical attraction between them, though that was long gone on Raquel's part.

Her shift ended in an hour, so if she managed to bury herself in the report she had to hand in tomorrow, she'd be able to avoid him.

She couldn't for the life of her understand why or how treating her like a disobedient child would take suspicions off of them, but Alberto was a man with fixed opinions and besides, he seemed to enjoy their (his) little strategy a bit too much.

She glanced at the mirror, making sure that she didn't look too dishevelled, and resolutely exited the bathroom. Immediately, her eyes crossed Ángel’s worried ones and she shook her head at him. It was bad enough that he looked like a kicked puppy every time she was in the room; if she let him think that she needed his help with Alberto, she'd never get rid of him.

She sat at her desk, a heavy sigh trapping her lungs and making it hard to see clearly. An hour and she'd be free.

She wouldn't go home, that much she was sure of—her flat was on the way to Alberto's and he'd probably pressure her into letting him in. He'd done it before. She then did something she thought she would never do: she took out her cell phone and looked up the local pubs. She desperately needed a night out, a breath of fresh air, and a stiff drink.

She scrolled through the results, her eye catching onto the only name she didn’t know—it was also the furthest one from her location, which suited her well. “La Guarida de la Bruja”, indicated the neon sign in the first picture.

She swiped to see the other pictures, but a hand slammed down onto her desk, making her look up with a start. Her finger instinctively locked her phone as she let out a gasp. Alberto was looking down at her, fury burning bright in his muddy eyes, and she tried her best not to shudder. If this really was all a ruse, he was one hell of an actor.

“I tell you you’ve been distracted, and you reply by taking out your phone?” he growled. He reminded her of a hound, ready to pounce on its prey.

“I was looking for something concerning a case,” she lied through gritted teeth. She would not stand another scolding not ten minutes after the last one—even if he was technically right this time.

“Show me,” he demanded, his long fingers stretching out towards her.

“No.” He might have been both her boss and her boyfriend, but the one thing she would defend to the death was her right to privacy, and everybody at the station knew it. Alberto knew it too, so he knew this was a losing battle. His hand retracted and he morphed his face into a polite smile, though his eyes were still lit up by anger.

“It doesn’t quite matter,” he said, and his tone was so unmistakably threatening that the office fell completely silent, confirming Raquel’s suspicions: they’d been listening. “As I’m sure you won’t leave this station until your report is done.”

He walked away, and Raquel felt her bottom lip quiver. No. She wouldn’t cry. But something about him made dreadful images flash behind her eyelids. They would have to have a very serious talk, and sooner rather than later. For now, she had a report to finish.

It was twenty past nine when Raquel finally left the station, which she kept reminding herself wasn’t that late, but was still two hours later than she was supposed to. She wished her colleagues a good night before closing the door behind her and taking a big gulp of fresh air.

The cold was biting, though, and she was soon tightening her coat around her. They were well into November now, and the five-minute walk to her flat was a lot more tempting than the thirty minutes the app had told her it would take to reach La Guarida de la Bruja—but she was determined to do this for herself. She needed it.

She took out her phone to turn on the GPS and play some music, and she saw she had a text from Alberto.

“Dinner at my place?”

She scoffed and typed out a reply, declining politely. He was impossible. After plugging in her earphones and putting her playlist on shuffle, she was on her way.

_Are you gonna take me home tonight? Oh, down beside that red firelight…_

She walked to the rhythm of Roger Taylor’s drums, crossed the city through streets she’d never taken until she was standing in front of a wooden facade.

“You have reached your destination.”

“Yeah, gracias,” she muttered to herself.

The sign she’d seen earlier was dangling above her head, purple neon announcing the pub. What she hadn’t expected, however, was the just as purple neon arrow pointing down at a wooden door, the knocker of which was a silver snake. Whoever owned the bar was committed to a certain imagery, she noted with a half-smile.

She walked up to the door and gave it two knocks—she was intimidated, but even more than that, she was freezing. She was eager to get inside, whatever “inside” might be.

A few seconds later, the door opened on a gigantic man with long blond hair and a moustache.

“Hola,” he said in a gruff voice. She didn’t have the time to respond before he took a step to the side, disappearing behind the door. “Come in.”

She did just that, walking through the door into a small corridor—the man was standing in an alcove behind the door, and Raquel couldn’t help but think it was clever. The corridor was barely large enough for him alone, so if he had to let people in, it could have proven to be an arduous task.

“Gracias,” she said with a smile. He replied with a stiff nod and closed the door behind them.

“Go through the curtain, and down the stairs. No other way to go,” he said, gesturing to the end of the corridor.

“Gracias,” Raquel repeated. She wondered where the man was from; he had a slight accent.

She walked down the corridor until she reached the heavy curtains the man had talked about. They were incredibly thick, purple velvet, though it was so dark they could have passed for black, and she ran her hand over the fabric, amazed by the place she was discovering. She parted them and walked through them. A few steps ahead were the stairs, which she walked down with a growing sense of apprehension. She’d been to her fair share of pubs and clubs in her years at the Academy, but this one wore its name a little too well, and she was starting to fear that an actual witch would be waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. When she finally stepped off the last step, she found herself in front of another pair of curtains, from behind which she heard the rumour of a soft rock ballad. Elvis, she recognised after a while. All there was left to do was push the curtain aside and she would enter the witch’s lair.

Heart racing and fingers almost shaking, she did just that and stepped through.

The first thing that hit her was the heat. In a fraction of a second, she felt the need to strip down to her underwear. The music was overwhelming, too, and she felt her throat tighten after a few beats, the familiar guitar notes reaching through her. She was vaguely aware that she was standing still, already sweating a little, mouth slightly open. That she should move, in some way or another, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

She looked all around, in awe of the room she found herself in. It was all in length, stretching out ahead of her, lit up by dozens of multicoloured spotlights. Tables were scattered around, of different shapes, heights, some metal and some wood, and on the other side of the room, a stage was dimly lit, a grand piano and a guitar laying there, tempting her to run to them and accompany the music.

There must have been thirty people in the room, but Raquel estimated it could hold about a hundred, so it wasn’t too crowded.

She’d seen enough to decide the place was the very opposite of threatening, and she unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off, before hanging it on the rack to her left. She made her way through the room, slowly so as to take in every inch of the place. It felt like dreaming. When she reached the bar that lined half of the left wall, she pulled a stool for herself and sat down, meeting the waitress’ eyes.

“Hola,” she said, and the short-haired brunette’s face broke into a kind smile.

“You’re new. I saw you back there. Do you like the place, then?”

“Very much,” Raquel nodded. “I never knew about it, even though I’ve lived here for years!”

“That’s often the case. You have to know we’re here, otherwise you’d walk right by the door! We haven’t been here long, though, so—”

She was interrupted by a redhead who stormed in from a room behind the bar.

“Tokio, there’s a problem with the order for table 4, can you go check that you have it right?”

Tokio (as seemed to be her name, however odd it was—probably a nickname) walked off with a glance and a mouthed “sorry” in Raquel’s direction. Raquel replied with a smile and turned her attention to the newcomer, only to find her already looking back, an enigmatic look on her face but, when their eyes met, it vanished, replaced by a polite smile.

She was beautiful, Raquel thought. Tokio was around her age, but this woman seemed older—though estimating her age would have been impossible. Her smile was as bright as Raquel had ever seen a customer-friendly smile be, but her eyes were stormy. Hypnotising. She had an air of grandeur to her, and Raquel wouldn’t have been surprised to learn she was royalty.

“Did you get a chance to order?” she asked, her voice a lot softer than moments before. Raquel’s gaze flickered to her lips and the woman’s eyes followed the movement, her smile growing wider.

“No,” Raquel finally replied. “But I could use a beer.”

The reason for her coming here was creeping back into her mind, which was the last thing she wanted.

“Una cerveza, coming right up. Rough night?” the redhead asked as she was filling a glass.

Tokio was back, and she winked at Raquel before busying herself with some glasses of her own. Raquel smiled pensively, deciding she liked her.

“Yeah,” she replied, turning her attention back to the redhead and the glass of beer she’d laid in front of her. “Work was hell. I’m a police officer,” she added with a tight smile.

“Why?” The woman on the other side of the bar had lost her smile, and a crease between her brows took Raquel by surprise. The question was uncommon—people usually either congratulated her or insulted her—and she felt angry at herself for feeling so perplexed at the question.

“I… don’t know,” she admitted with a heavy sigh. “It used to be my dream job, but now it’s just my job, I suppose. It is what it is.”

“A job is like hair,” Tokio chimed in. “You can change it whenever you like, cariño.”

The redhead nodded in approval, her frown easing slightly.

“She’s right,” she simply said as she disappeared into the kitchen behind her.

Raquel smiled, though she didn’t feel joyous at all. Lately, the station had become a most dreaded place, mostly due to Alberto, and she went there every morning out of sheer habit. Long gone was the time when she woke up feeling like she contributed something good to her world. Her days were full of arresting drunk men and filling out reports, and she rarely felt useful. She sighed again and lifted her glass to her lips. The tang of bitterness was welcome, perfectly matching her thoughts.

“Do you want something to eat?” Tokio asked. “We have chips and tapas, my friend Nairobi in the kitchen is a food goddess. I mean, if you’re hungry.”

Nairobi. Maybe they all had city nicknames, Raquel pondered. It was odd, but it also made perfect sense, in a way she couldn’t quite explain. The idea of food was a much simpler one to understand, though, and she realised she was starving. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, and she’d probably been busy enough to keep the hunger at bay up until that point, but her stomach grumbled at that very moment, making Tokio chuckle.

“I’ll have some chips, thank you.”

She looked around the room, studying people’s faces with a slight smile. She loved seeing people in their own little worlds, and pubs were great places for that sort of exercise.

“Ogling my clients?” said a voice behind Raquel. She turned around to find the redhead was back, a smirk stretching her lips.

“I find it fascinating,” Raquel replied, “to watch people living their lives. You can try to guess things about them. It’s an excellent exercise.”

“Or you could just learn to know them. Most of them are regulars, you’d just have to come back.”

She held Raquel’s gaze with an intensity that made a shiver run down her spine. That was flirting, right?

“Well, I’d need to have a reason to come back,” she quipped back.

The woman threw her head back and laughed, a low and earthy sound that sounded as threatening as it was wonderful.

“You’re good,” she said in an appreciative tone. “I’m Alicia, by the way. I own this place.”

Raquel’s eyes widened. She was the owner? The reason for the heavy curtains and the rainbow lights, the old school rock fan, the person who put this amazing place together?

“I’m Raquel,” she replied with a breathy chuckle. “Nice to meet you. This is quite the achievement. It’s wonderful.”

“Feels like home, doesn’t it?” Tokio smiled at her as she walked by.

“It does,” she agreed, her eyes meeting Alicia’s. There was something about them that pulled her in, making her want to get lost into them, maybe forever. After a few seconds of silent staring, Alicia smiled again and walked off, leaving Raquel alone with her beer, of which she took a nervous sip.

It took her around thirty minutes to finish her glass because try as she might, she could not stop her thoughts from straying away—they wandered between Alberto and Alicia’s eyes, sometimes lingering on the job she was far too tired of for her young age.

Hotel California came on, and Raquel smiled. She used to dance to this song with her mother when she was little. They would always sing the guitar solo at the top of their lungs, and end up in tears from laughing too hard. Good memories.

She was finishing her last chip when Alicia entered the room again, appearing once again from the room at the end of the bar, and she headed straight for Raquel. Her heart began to race. Had she done something wrong?

“Do you smoke?” she asked, her right eyebrow raised slightly.

“I do,” Raquel replied with an inquisitive smile.

“Could I borrow a cigarette?”

There it was, Raquel thought. The first crack in the perfect picture she presented to the world. Somehow, Raquel felt proud that a woman who floated so high above everyone else would need her. She felt triumphant, as if she’d solved the greatest enigma of all time—but she reminded herself that she was far, very far from having figured her out.

“Sure. Mind if I join you?”

Alicia’s head tilted to the left and she observed Raquel for a few seconds.

“I think it’d do you good,” she finally said with a half-smile. “Get your coat, I’ll get some more chips. We’ll go out the back.”

Raquel nodded and got off her stool, walking to the other side of the room (considerably faster than she’d made her way in). Her heart was still pounding, and her breath had quickened—she didn’t quite know why, but that woman made her nervous beyond measure and, at the same time, she was dying to talk to her, to learn to know her.

There was something about her, something that told Raquel she was special, extraordinary, but that she was the edge of a cliff, and, as fascinating as she might be, falling could still prove fatal.

_Last thing I remember, I was running for the door_

_I had to find the passage back to the place I was before_

She’d always loved the song, but it now rang through her in a way it never had. Had she found her Hotel California? And if she had, did she even want to leave?

Once she had her coat, and the precious cigarettes, she walked back to the bar, where Alicia, who was waiting for her with a bag of chips and a black leather coat slung over her arm, motioned for her to walk behind the bar.

“Straight ahead,” her voice indicated behind Raquel. Not that there was anywhere else to go—Raquel was not planning on smoking in the kitchen.

She pushed the wooden door at the end of the bar and walked through it, gasping softly when Alicia’s hand landed on the small of her back, pushing her forward so she could close the door behind them.

They were in a cellar of sorts, which held beer kegs and bottles of several liquors, some that she recognised and some not, as well as potato sacks, and in the middle, a long, sleek, black motorcycle. Raquel’s mouth fell open, and Alicia chuckled.

“With a machine like that, you can imagine Tokio has no problem picking up people.”

So it was Tokio’s. Raquel couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed—the thought of Alicia riding that motorcycle did things to her that she would never admit to. But maybe she owned a sports car with leather seats. Or a boat. It seemed plausible.

“Shall we?” she said, finding herself in need of fresh air.

She felt a little guilty for lusting after someone when she was taken, but she rapidly silenced those thoughts. She wasn’t planning on doing anything, and besides, Alberto didn’t exactly deserve her precautions tonight.

Alicia crossed the room and opened the door on the other side of it, revealing a narrow street. Raquel was momentarily taken aback that they didn’t have to climb back to the surface, and Alicia noted that the place used to be a clandestine cinema, which didn’t explain anything, but was interesting enough to distract Raquel from her initial question.

They stepped outside and lit their cigarettes. They smoked in silence; the nicotine soothed Raquel’s nerves, grounded her. She smoked looking at Alicia, who looked at the starry sky above them, only glancing at her every now and then with a knowing smile.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she quipped when her cigarette went out. She stomped it out and kicked it into the sewers.

Raquel drew a last hit from hers before doing the same with a bashful smile.

“When there’s a view, you have to admire it, right?”

Alicia’s smile grew wider and she shook her head.

“How old are you, anyway?” she asked.

“Twenty-four,” Raquel replied, suddenly feeling that she was very young. “I’m turning twenty-five next month.”

“Oh, I’m never going to hear the end of this,” Alicia muttered with a smirk.

Raquel didn’t ask what she was talking about, mostly because she already knew. She only smiled, making a mental note of the way Alicia’s nose scrunched up when she was amused.

The cathedral bell rang in the distance, announcing eleven. Raquel breathed out and shuffled a bit, trying to keep warm. November was an unforgiving month, and she was cold despite her coat. That said, Alicia looked perfectly fine, and her coat wasn’t even closed.

The redhead seemed lost in thought, but snapped out of it after a while and fetched the small bag of chips from her pocket.

“Do you want one?” she asked.

“Claro,” Raquel replied with a smile. She extended her hand to grab one, but Alicia tsked, putting the bag out of reach. Without breaking eye contact, she then reached into it, pulled out a chip and took two steps forward, bringing herself closer to Raquel. So close. She brought the chip to Raquel’s lips, and the brunette felt her heart freeze in her chest. She’d been expecting anything but that. They stayed still for a long time, eyes searching each other’s face. Their breaths, rendered visible by the cold, mingled between them.

The chip hovered in front of Raquel’s face, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of Alicia’s big, brown, mischievous ones. There was a flame dancing in them that made her think she’d been right about that cliff.

And she dove headfirst into the abyss.

She leaned forward and seized Alicia’s hand with her own, keeping it in place. She bit off half of the chip, then grabbed the other half with her teeth and tugged it out of her grip. She chewed, and swallowed, enjoying the look on Alicia’s face much more thoroughly than the chip itself. Her eyes were cold, careful not to let anything shine through, but her lips were slightly parted, and Raquel could tell she was holding her breath.

Feeling bold (or maybe she didn’t want that expression to ever disappear from her face), she brought Alicia’s hand closer to her face, and captured her fingers in her mouth, swirling her tongue around them, licking them clean. They tasted of salt and tobacco, of perfume and beer. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could stay in that moment forever.

She hadn’t lost all of her common sense, however, and she released Alicia’s hand and opened her mouth. When the fingers left her mouth, she suddenly felt that the temperature had dropped again. She flashed Alicia her most innocent smile, breaking the spell. Alicia let out a burst of laughter, loud and hearty, and Raquel couldn’t help but crack up too.

“You’ve got some balls, kid,” she said, grinning wide. “But don’t play that game with me if you’re not sure to get to the finish line. Come on, let’s get back inside.”

Raquel nodded and followed her back through the door, trying her best not to think about the way her grin had looked feral—or the way it had made her heart race.

She ended up leaving five minutes later (it was a week night, after all, and the last thing she wanted was to face Alberto with bags under her eyes). She waved Tokio and Alicia goodbye.

“Do come again,” Alicia said, to which she replied with a nod, her throat tight.

She made her way through the curtains, up the stairs and down the corridor, already regretting having left so soon. But it was for the best.

“Have a good night!” she told the man at the door.

“Usted también,” he replied—and she could have sworn she saw the hint of a smile, but maybe it was just the shadow of his moustache.

She walked through the door and out into the street; she found that the wind was just a bit more biting, and the night just a bit colder.


	2. Where Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raquel has to go back to her ordinary life... except it isn't so ordinary anymore.

The next morning, pushing the front door of the police station seemed both the easiest and hardest thing in the world. Easy, because Raquel felt lighter and happier than she had in days, maybe weeks. Hard because she didn’t want to be there. If she thought about it enough, she’d say she’d rather have been at an underground bar on the other side of town, but really she’d rather have been anywhere else.

The day went by uneventfully. She handed in her report (Alberto smiled at her when she did, and she smiled back, happy to see him somewhat normal), went on patrol and agreed to have coffee with Ángel—at her desk. He’d rather have gone out that night, but Raquel pretexted to have a video call with her sister, and he left her alone about it. Of course, he didn’t know Raquel hadn’t talked to her sister in almost a year, but she was definitely not planning on telling him that.

All through the day, images of brown eyes and misty breaths invaded her thoughts, but she kept pushing them away. She refused to indulge in yearning. She had a boyfriend, and she didn’t even  _ know  _ Alicia. Even if she wanted to.

When the evening came, she was among the first to leave. She’d stayed late the night before and wasn’t planning on making it a habit. She decided to swing by Alberto’s office—to extend an olive branch. His face lit up when she opened his door, and she felt her heart clench. It wasn’t so difficult to remember why she’d been interested in him in the first place. 

“I’m going home.” She knew he wouldn’t leave the station until late that night; they’d just closed a difficult case, and the paperwork would be hell. “See you tomorrow?”

“I have to go to Madrid tomorrow, so I suppose not,” he replied with a smile.

“Alright. Well, good night!”

“Good night.”

She didn’t push her luck as far as closing the door behind her and kissing him, though she really wanted to. He hadn’t been so nice to her in a long, long time.

She left the station feeling content, wondering what she was going to whip up for dinner. She pondered for a while whether she'd go back to Alicia's pub, but it was ultimately the fear of passing Ángel in the street after having said she’d be at home that made her decide she could wait a few more days before going back.

It scared her, how much she wanted to, though. She couldn't suppress the memories of the night before, no matter how many images of Alberto she stacked on top of them. She could still taste Alicia's fingers, could still hear her seductive voice over the Hotel California chorus.  _ You've got some balls, kid. _ Did she? She'd never been brave. But that woman had unlocked a part of her she barely knew, and now she couldn't help but ask herself if it was a one-time thing, or if it was just a power that Alicia had. She was burning to find out. And she would, just not tonight. Before she knew it, she was at her front door, subconsciously looking for a neon arrow.

She'd woken up feeling more tired than when she's gone to sleep, head pounding even though all she'd drank the previous night was a cup of tea.

Her sleep had been restless and her dreams far too vivid for her liking. She'd seen herself run from a shadow that inexplicably resembled Alberto, but her escape had been blocked by a dark swamp. When she'd finally lost all hope, a giant blaze of fire had come from the sky, illuminating everything around her, and effectively vanquishing the shadow. Before it all went black, she could have sworn she saw a pair of brown eyes dancing in the flames.

The sight of a cup of coffee landing on her desk snapped Raquel out of her thoughts. She didn't have to look up to know who her knight in shining armour was—the blue checkered shirt sleeve could only belong to one person.

“You look exhausted,” Ángel said in lieu of a greeting. “But somehow I haven’t seen you so relaxed in ages.”

Raquel would normally have quipped something about Alberto being a tyrannical boss—which he wasn’t, except to her—and Ángel would have laughed, enjoying any opportunity to drive her away from her boyfriend. But her dream was still too fresh, and Ángel was right. The tension that usually invaded her shoulders as soon as she sat at her desk was nowhere to be found, and by now her leg should be sore from nervously bouncing it—except she’d sat still since she’d arrived.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she replied with a tired smile. “I’ll admit I need it.”

She looked up at him, hoping he’d understand that this was her way of dismissing him. He didn’t.

“Arturo, Gandía and I are going out for a bite and a drink tonight. I don’t suppose you’d want to join us?”

His tone was pleading, and his eyes full of hope. Raquel pitied him, she knew he hated the guys as much as she did, and only went out with them for the sake of a good work environment—that didn’t mean she had to think twice before declining.

“I’ve already made plans with a friend, sorry.”

She really hadn’t, and besides, she didn’t have any real friends in the city. The few she’d had had ended up moving away, or they’d simply grown apart. She didn’t mind; her job was very time-consuming, and she spent her free time sketching the cathedral and reading in her favourite café. She loved her quiet, lonely life.

That night, though, the perspective of being alone was enough to crush her chest. There  _ was  _ someone she wanted to see.

She’d thought she’d be able to wait a few days before returning to La Guarida de la Bruja, but she found that she’d forgotten a part of herself there, and she needed to see if it could be retrieved, or if she had to entrust it to the grand piano and its redheaded owner.

Ángel looked disappointed, but he must have got the message because he walked away, shoulders low and a deep sigh dying on his mouth. He must have known, Raquel thought, that even if she’d been free, she wasn’t as willing to suffer as he was, and Arturo Román and César Gandía were the last people on Earth she wanted to go out with. They were loud, and crude, and she suspected that both of them had only become police officers so they could get away with their bloodlust.

She shook her head, and grabbed the cup of coffee. That at least would do her good. She downed it, grateful for the way it burned her throat and settled in her stomach, warming her up from the inside. When five minutes passed and no request was thrown her way, she put on her coat and went to the little terrace that served as a smoking room.

She got back just in time to hear Prieto shouting from his desk.

“Román, Murillo, we have an incident at a pub, go check it out.”

Raquel’s heart froze, and she almost choked on her own spit.

“Which pub?” Arturo asked before she got a chance to.

“Los Amigos.”

Raquel could breathe again. She shoved her gun in her holster and headed for the door, rolling her eyes at Arturo who was wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

The end of the day arrived slowly, and Raquel had to admit that, as relaxing as Alberto’s absence was, the chaos that it brought to the station was not worth it. When she walked through the front door at eight, she felt like her head was going to explode, and she mechanically made her way back to her flat, closing her eyes to relish in the silence as soon as she closed the door behind her.

It took her all of two minutes to decide that she was, in fact, going back to Alicia’s pub tonight, and that there was no power on Earth or elsewhere that could stop her.

The more rational side of her decided to have dinner and take a shower before heading back out, though; she wasn’t ready to have any sort of conversation right now, her colleagues having drained every drop of social skills that she might have possessed. And that way, she could take the time to dress up a little, but that was only for her to know.

The clock was striking eleven when Raquel grabbed the silver snake that would let her into La Guarida. She was buzzing with a cocktail of fear and excitement, and she ended up knocking just a bit too hard. The moustached giant opened the door almost immediately, and Raquel could have teared up at the way his face genuinely lit up when he recognised her.

“You’re back,” he simply said.

She nodded with a smile and he let her in, wishing her a good evening. She felt happiness bubbling in her chest. It took all she had not to run down the corridor. The velvet curtains were already a familiar sensation under her fingertips, and it felt like her body remembered how many steps there were in the stairs, and then to the second curtain. Her pulse was hot and loud in her ears as she stepped into the main room, nearly drowning out the Nirvana song that was playing.

Her eyes immediately landed on the bar, spotting a young woman she didn’t know. She had long black hair and golden brown skin—Raquel caught herself wondering if Alicia had something against average-looking people, since she didn’t seem to want to hire any.

She took off her coat but didn’t hang it, slinging it over her arm instead. It was nonsensical but she had a sinking feeling that she wouldn’t see Alicia here tonight, no matter how long she waited. She hesitated, her eyes raking the room, looking for the sleek ponytail she knew she wouldn’t find.

When she looked back to the bar, the unknown waitress was looking straight at her, and motioned for her to come over. Raquel crossed the room, because what else was there to do, really? When she reached the bar, the woman was smiling.

“Eres Raquel?” she asked without preambule. Raquel nodded. “Alicia’s not here tonight.”

Raquel couldn’t stop her face from falling. She’d come for nothing. She suddenly became aware of the way the woman was eyeing her clothes, and Raquel felt ridiculous. Her blazer barely covered the black lace body she was wearing as a top, and she felt like slapping herself. What the hell had she thought? At least the woman in front of her seemed to like what she was seeing, so that was that.

The second realisation that came to her was even worse: this girl she didn’t know  _ knew her _ . What had Alicia told people about her?

“Alright,” she said, trying to defuse the tension she was feeling—mostly because she was sure she was the only one feeling it. She’d got all up in her head about seeing Alicia, but that wasn’t happening, so. “I’ll have a beer, please.”

“I could serve you a beer,” the girl said with a chuckle, “or I could give you Alicia’s number and you could call her right now.”

Raquel felt her mouth fall open. She wanted to say it was crazy, that she didn’t know Alicia that well, and that she hadn’t come for her anyway. Instead, what came out was:

“You’d do that?”

“Por supuesto.”

She took a piece of paper from under the bar and handed it to Raquel. On it was a phone number and "llámame" scribbled in messy handwriting. Her heart stopped. She looked up at the waitress, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“You made quite an impression, cariño,” she said. “You can go out the back if you want.”

Raquel didn’t know what she’d done to grant herself the kindness of everyone in this place, but she was so grateful for it that her heart felt like it had doubled in size. She nodded eagerly and went behind the bar, only allowing herself to smile once the cellar door was shut behind her. She brought a hand to her mouth, unable to contain the happiness that was flooding her brain.

She dialed the number before she could talk herself out of it and brought the phone to her ear with shaking hands. After the third ring, Raquel heard the vague rumour of a crowded place, slow, sultry music, and finally… 

“Hola?”

“Hola, Alicia,” Raquel said, thanking the heavens that her voice was steady. “Soy Raquel.”

“Ah,” Alicia said. Something in her voice made Raquel think that she’d been waiting for her call, and her heart did a happy flip. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I mean… yeah. The girl at the bar told me to call you.”

“Buena chica, Nairobi,” Alicia muttered under her breath. Raquel smiled. So that was Nairobi, the Tokio-appointed culinary genius. “Good,” said the older woman, this time directed at Raquel. “Would you care to join me? I’m at a club that a friend of mine owns. Good music, free drinks.”

“Yes,” Raquel blurted out. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Alicia laughed, and Raquel thought she couldn’t find a more beautiful sound even if she spent her life roaming the planet.

“I’ll text you the address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, because it was originally part of Chapter 3... but I thought I'd keep you on your toes a bit more :)
> 
> I'm @uponanightsky on Twitter!


	3. El Atraco

Forty minutes after her phone call with Alicia, and after sly looks from Nairobi, a Google search, and hesitant wandering through the city, Raquel found herself in front of the club. El Atraco. Another strange name. She hoped it wasn’t a clue as to their entrance fees.

She got in line and, a few minutes later, she was greeted by the bouncer, a tall man with a gray beard and a mohawk.

“Can I get your ID, señorita?” Raquel handed it to him with a smile, wondering in what universe she looked younger than eighteen. “It’s you,” he then said, and Raquel’s heart, for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening, leapt in her chest. “You go to VIP. Manila will take you.”

Manila—yet another city. Raquel grew more and more confused the more she learned about Alicia’s surroundings, and when a tall girl with wavy brown hair and legs like a model’s appeared at the bouncer’s side, the only greeting she managed was a smile, although she knew she was smiling too much, too wide, and that she shouldn’t be so happy without knowing why.

They walked through the door, Raquel following her guide closely so she wouldn’t lose her in the crowd. They arrived in a large room, with a low ceiling and multicoloured lights dancing as furiously as the people there. Manila led her along the wall until they arrived at a platform, separated from the rest of the room by a low neon barrier glowing dimly in various colours. It was also a bit elevated, making it look like a balcony. The VIP area, then.

She closed her eyes to listen to the music—it was typical club music, a remix of a popular song, but the DJ was doing a very good job at boosting the bass and she thought there might be another song playing at the same time, but it all sounded great and immediately put her in her party mood. It felt good.

When she opened her eyes again, Manila had opened the little gate to the VIP area, and she took a last look around the room. Only then did she notice the rainbows. Rainbow flags and banners, rainbow strobes and disco balls, rainbow bowties around necks and rainbow knee-high socks. It smelled of smoke machines and sweat, but also of sugar and spice.

It dawned upon her that this was a place Alicia came to, and the thought of it sent a wave of heat down her spine. They could be, in a few minutes or a few hours, two of these bodies losing themselves in the music and in one another. She swallowed hard and tore her eyes away from the room.

The moment she stepped onto the platform, she spotted Alicia. She was cloaked in the shadows but still the most beautiful woman in the room. She hadn’t noticed her yet, so Raquel seized her opportunity to observe her, her throat suddenly tight and her cheeks hot. The redhead was leaning back in her seat, arm draped across the back of her booth. She was wearing a sheer black turtleneck and she’d let down her hair, which framed her face elegantly and fell down to her waist. She was breathtaking.

Raquel walked over to her—their—table and pulled a chair for herself, smiling when she saw Alicia’s eyes snap onto her.

“You’re sneaky,” the older woman noted, straightening her posture to take a better look at Raquel, who suddenly felt naked in front of her brown eyes. In her lace bodysuit, without her coat or her blazer, she practically was.

“Part of the job,” she replied with a smile. “You look beautiful.”

She felt that if she didn’t say it, the thought might consume her whole.

“So do you.” There was no doubt that Alicia was enjoying the sight, her eyes were still raking over Raquel’s body like it was the most marvellous thing she’d ever seen. “Did you take the time to go change?” she asked as her eyes came back up to meet Raquel’s.

“I didn’t, actually,” she muttered. “I showed up at your pub like this.”

The look in Alicia’s eyes at those words made Raquel shiver, and she now found that her dearest wish was to be in a room alone with that woman. Had she had more confidence and less common sense, she might have asked her to follow her into the bathroom right that instant.

Neither woman said another word, and the tension between them had shot to a thousand. Raquel didn’t know what to do. Their eyes only parted to explore each other’s bodies, and there was no ambiguity or question as to what they were both feeling. When a waiter arrived and greeted Alicia, breaking their eye contact, Raquel couldn’t help but breathe out in relief.

“Hola, Denver,” Alicia said. She didn’t sound troubled in the slightest. “I’ll have a Marquina, now that my guest has arrived.” She threw a wink at Raquel.

“Make it two.”

She hadn’t the faintest idea what a Marquina was, but whatever Alicia liked, she was set on liking too.

“Palermo told me to tell you that he was in the mood to offer you a line of tequila shots,” Denver said with a smile.

Alicia snorted and let out a laugh. Raquel thought there might be an inside joke she didn’t know about. It sent a surge of possessiveness through her that surprised her. She had no right to feel that way, especially since she’d just met Alicia, but she found that she was desperate to know every corner of her mind, every thing that made her smile, and laugh.

“We’ll take it,” she blurted out.

Alicia smirked and nodded at Denver who was looking at her expectantly. He left and the two women were once again left alone.

“You need tequila, huh?”

“Cállate,” Raquel replied with a nervous smile. “What  _ is  _ a Marquina anyway?”

“Warm apple cider, whiskey, cinnamon and whipped cream. Palermo’s ex’s brother made apple cider, and Palermo always made that cocktail when they spent Christmas together. The ex died, the brother vanished, and Palermo named the cocktail after him.”

“Dios mío,” Raquel said, horrified that the cocktail she’d ordered had such a bleak story. “Is Palermo okay?”

“Oh yeah, that was long ago. He’s happily married now,” Alicia replied, seemingly amused by Raquel’s reaction. “His husband and him own this place. He makes cocktails and Helsinki’s the DJ. They’re two of the kindest, most dedicated men I know.”

There was a fondness in her eyes that made Raquel’s insides turn to goop. She was intimidating and mysterious and confident, but she also had a sweet heart, and that made Raquel feel all kinds of things.

“What about you?” she asked, more confidently than she felt. “Is there… anyone?”

“I wouldn’t be here with you if there was.”

The words were loaded with meaning, and something very strange happened inside of Raquel. Part of her was sent to the seventh heaven, having confirmation that Alicia felt the same things she was feeling, but her stomach sank down, thinking that  _ she  _ did in fact have someone, and hadn’t spoken a word about him. And if she did now, it would be too little, too late.

Raquel had never cheated on any of her boyfriends, and she’d never thought she’d find herself in the position of wanting to, but tonight proved her wrong and, much to her horror, she found that she didn’t really care. She’d never felt what she felt for Alicia, like life was more real, more vivid, more honest when she was around her, like there were possibilities. She shoved Alberto out of her mind and focused on the piercing brown eyes in front of her. They were just like those in her dream, but instead of dancing in the flames, a flame danced in them. She wanted to kiss her eyelids and absorb that fire, so that she was never separated from her.

“So,” she started, in a desperate attempt to come down from the high Alicia’s enchanting presence had instilled in her, “what’s the deal with the city names? Tokio, Nairobi, Denver, Palermo, Helsinki… Manila!” she counted on her fingers as she enumerated the people she’d encountered.

“It’s this place,” Alicia replied, waving her finger around. “When they hire you, they give you a name, and some people choose to keep theirs even after they leave.” Raquel hadn’t been expecting that. It was strange, but it made the place seem like a big family, which was something she’d always hoped she’d find in her workplace—evidently, she’d chosen the wrong career path. “Incidentally, all those who do keep it are one big friend group. My friends,” she added with a smile Raquel was sure she’d meant to be silly, but ended up betraying the same fondness she’d had before. She seemed proud to call them her friends. Raquel smiled and nodded.

“And do you have a city name?” she asked, curious.

“No. Never worked here. I came here to open my bar and met them all through Tokio.”

It was only an crumb, nothing really. But learning something of Alicia’s past was like the first hit of a drug Raquel had never known.

“Where are you from?” The questions fell from her mouth directly from her mind. She wondered briefly if Alicia minded.

“Madrid,” the redhead replied with a shrug. “How’s work been? Any better?” she asked without missing a beat. The question made Raquel feel all warm inside, because she knew Alicia disapproved of her job, but she apparently cared enough to ask her about it.

“It was, yeah. But better doesn’t mean good.” The faces of her colleagues flashed before her eyes, lingering on Alberto for a bit too long. “I appreciate you asking, I really do, but can we not talk about it?”

Just as Alicia was nodding, curiosity flashing in her eyes, Denver appeared out of thin air, laying a tray on their table.

“Two Marquinas and a shit-ton of tequila for Palermo’s favourite customer and her wonderful guest,” he said as he set their cocktails in front of each of them with a flourish and something that looked like a curtsy. Raquel let out a snort, immediately bringing her hand in front of her face in embarrassment.

“Gracias, Denver.”

As he left, Alicia turned her attention back to Raquel, eyes sparkling with mischief. She was quite obviously amused by Raquel, who was torn between thinking it might have come off as an adorable quirk of hers, or completely put Alicia off. She’d probably never know because Alicia’s next move was to jut her chin towards Raquel’s glass with a smirk.

“Taste it.”

Raquel eyed her glass. It looked like it was almost entirely whipped cream, with cinnamon on top. To be fair, it looked delicious, so she obediently brought the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip. She let the liquid seep down her throat and closed her eyes with an appreciative hum. It was warm and sweet and, oddly enough, it tasted like Alicia felt. In fact, the drink was so her that Raquel felt herself blush. She felt as if she was tasting Alicia.

“I imagine you’re more of a mojito.”

Raquel’s eyes snapped open. She’d spoken out loud! From a light blush, her cheeks became a wildfire, and she buried herself into another sip, trying her best to disappear behind the whipped cream. Alicia threw her head back and laughed before shaking her head and taking a sip of her own drink.

“I must admit I’m delicious,” she said as she swallowed.

Raquel had forgotten any word that she might have known at some point, so she settled for a nervous nod and smile. At least Alicia seemed to be having a lot of fun.

The line of tequila shots sat between them, heavy with implication, and their eyes darted towards it when they thought the other wasn’t looking. There were chunks of lime and a little pile of salt, and Raquel’s mind started to make a list of all the body parts one could lick salt off of, trying her best not to glance at Alicia as she did.

They drank in silence, not really listening to the music but not looking at each other either. Raquel felt that she’d asked too many questions already, and Alicia… well, God only knew what went on in Alicia’s mind.

In the end, it was her who broke the silence when Raquel set down her empty glass.

“You’re leaving all that?” she asked, pointedly looking at the whipped cream accumulated at the bottom of the brunette’s glass.

“Well, what’s the other option?”

Alicia scoffed, grabbed Raquel’s glass and, without another word, scooped all the cream onto her finger, which she held out in front of Raquel’s face.

She looked at Alicia, eyes flickering between her face and her hand. It took a few seconds, an incredulous smile spreading on her face, but in the end, in an already familiar way, she wrapped her lips around the older woman’s finger. She didn’t linger as long as she wanted to and Alicia was soon wiping it on a napkin. Too soon for Raquel’s liking.

“I need a shot,” Alicia declared with a nervous smile, and Raquel thought she must have been crimson red, every action and word from the other woman making her blush even more. The mere thought that she needed a shot because of her was enough to set her body on fire, and she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease an ache that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

“Me too,” she muttered, her throat tight. She needed all the help she could get to distract herself from the pooling warmth between her legs. If that help came in the form of tequila, then so be it.

They sprinkled some salt on the back of their hands.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Venga.”

Salt scratches tongue. Lime burns the cracks in their lips and a line of fire burns down their throats. Raquel hisses, and Alicia whoops.

“Knock ‘em back, cowboy!” the redhead said, just loud enough that Raquel saw the neighbouring tables turn their heads towards them.

They downed another each, and Raquel was starting to feel seriously buzzed. Colours were brighter but edges were blurrier, and the heat that she felt all over her body was now roaming free, licking strips of fire all over her insides.

She got up on wobbly feet, causing Alicia to burst out laughing. Her face was all scrunched up, and Raquel wanted to kiss every line that her smile created. She held out her hand.

“Vamos a bailar.”

Alicia took her hand—and the lead, leading her through the neon gate and into the crowd. Raquel saw her take a big breath in before she shouted, at the top of her lungs, in a voice that rang clear over the music:

“Helsi!”

The music that was playing immediately died down with a dramatic record scratch. The crowd had barely started booing that already they were cheering, as the first notes of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” started playing.

“You did that?” Raquel shouted, looking at Alicia with wide, incredulous eyes.

“Enjoy the ride, baby,” the redhead replied with a smile. Raquel gasped as Alicia spun her around by the hand she was still holding. Her back slammed against Alicia’s chest and the air was knocked out of her lungs. She could feel the material of Alicia’s shirt through the thin lace of her body and, both of their tops being sheer, she could have sworn she could feel heat radiating off of the woman behind her.

She only then noticed that she was dancing—if jumping and swaying frantically could be considered dancing, but Alicia, hand flush against Raquel’s stomach, holding her close, seemed to be doing exactly the same thing.

They danced for days, years even, never parting for more than a second or more than a centimetre. Somehow, at some point, Raquel must have turned around, because she was facing Alicia (and she was unable to take her eyes off of her). Their breaths were one and the same, and Raquel couldn’t really quite tell where her body ended and where Alicia’s began anymore.

Her skin was on fire, as was her mind, and Alicia’s eyes told her that she felt the same way. Somewhere during the song that was playing, they’d grabbed each other’s hand, and when it switched to the next song, they both stopped dancing and headed to the VIP area, not a word spoken between them.

Raquel only realised how exhausted she was when she dropped onto her chair. Strands of hair were stuck to her face because of the sweat and she was slightly out of breath. Alicia was no better, her cheeks were flushed and her face was glistening, a thousand colours catching onto the beads of sweat on her forehead. Somehow, she looked even more beautiful like this.

“I’m parched,” the brunette chuckled as she grabbed a glass of tequila. She drank it in one swig and Alicia laughed with her as she did the same. “I hadn’t danced like that in ages!”

Alicia narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, a grin spreading on her lips.

“Come here, I can’t hear you over the music,” she said, patting the space beside her.

Raquel got to her feet and walked around the table. The booth was tiny. Built for two ten-year-olds, maybe. Alicia scooted over, and Raquel stared at the space it left. She’d fit. Barely. Alicia’s smile was more devilish than ever, and Raquel was now certain that she’d been able to hear her perfectly.

She sat down. Her thigh was pressed against Alicia’s, and she had the vague thought that she shouldn’t have worn trousers. Their arms brushed with every move, and she turned her head to face Alicia, bewildered by such proximity.

Her eyes were incredible. So dark they were almost black, but specks of gold shone here and there, illuminated by the lights. Alicia’s gaze dropped to Raquel’s lips, and her heart began to race. What was she doing? She could feel herself leaning in and she could tell Alicia was too. It felt like a cosmic force was pulling her in; there was no stopping it, no escaping it. Alicia’s alcohol-infused breath caressed her face, more intoxicating than any drink. She closed her eyes and— 

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” a snarky male voice said somewhere above their heads.

They jumped apart—well, as far as their seat permitted. Raquel gasped, Alicia cursed, and the man in front of them dissolved into loud, hearty laughter.

“Oh dear, your faces!” he giggled, wiping an imaginary tear from his cheek. “I’m Palermo. Nice to meet you, señorita Raquel.” He extended his hand.

Raquel looked at Alicia, who shrugged and made a vague gesture towards the newcomer.

“Nice to meet you,” she said with an awkward smile, and shook his hand. He shook firmly, which she liked. A handshake was always a good indicator of character. “You own this joint, right?”

“I do! Helsinki can’t come right now, as you know, but he told me to send warm hugs.”

“I’m not giving you a hug, cabrón,” Alicia chimed in.

Palermo stayed around for a while. He mainly talked to Alicia and Raquel watched, fascinated, as they discussed a thousand topics with no transitions, throwing in jokes and insults. Occasionally, Alicia asked Raquel for her opinion, or explained an inside joke to her, and Raquel felt so happy, and her heart felt so full, that she didn’t immediately notice the way her purse was vibrating against her leg.

When she finally did, she flashed Alicia an apologetic smile as she fished out her phone. An incoming call was lighting up her screen, and went to voicemail as she read the name. Alberto. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head.

There was no way she could ever explain it, but she’d forgotten about him. She didn’t feel like the Raquel that was his girlfriend. The one who worked at the station. She was guitarist Raquel, she was party girl Raquel…

She looked back at Alicia, who quirked an eyebrow, asking a silent question. Her throat was in knots, and she tried to explain, but no words would come out, so she just shook her head as she put her phone back into her purse.

She brought her focus back to Alicia and Palermo, and their passionate debate on a musical Raquel had never heard about. It was surprisingly easy to, once again, push Alberto out of her mind. After a few minutes, Alicia said something about needing a cigarette, to which Palermo replied that he ought to get his ass behind his bar again, because Denver wasn’t half as good as him. Alicia turned back to Raquel.

“Walk the nicotine addiction road with me? My treat this time.”

Raquel’s nod was eager, Alicia’s smile bright, and Palermo’s goodbye full of barely-concealed insinuation. He was almost cackling when he walked away.

When the cold air hit her face, Raquel let out a happy sigh. Nothing surpassed cold winter wind on a sweaty face. She accepted the cigarette Alicia handed her and lit it, relishing the way the smoke burned her throat all the way down.

“Do you want to go back inside afterwards, or—”

Alicia was cut off by Raquel’s phone, both women startled by the sudden buzzing. Raquel didn’t really know why she took it out of her purse to check who was calling her, but when she saw Alberto’s name, she wished with her whole soul that she hadn’t.

“I’d better get this,” she grimaced. Alicia shook her head, indicating she didn’t mind. Raquel swiped her finger across the screen.

“Hola, Alberto.”

“Puta de mierda, te juro por Dios que te voy a joder!” Raquel winced and moved her phone a few inches from her ear, for fear of going deaf. A familiar lead weight found its place back in her stomach—and to think she hadn’t even noticed it had gone away. Tears filled her eyes in a matter of seconds, and she clutched her stomach with her free hand. She instinctively turned away from Alicia. The only thing worse than what was happening would be for Alicia to see her cry. “I got my ass back from Madrid to surprise you, and what do I find? My loving girlfriend? No, I find a cold bed and a pile of lingerie on your bedroom floor. Dónde coño estás?”

“I’m sorry, I’m in town with a friend, but I’ll come back right now.”

All her efforts did nothing to stop a tear from rolling on her cheek, burning hot before the wind rendered it freezing cold.

“You’d better.”

He hung up and, for a few seconds, Raquel couldn’t move.

“Are you alright?” Alicia asked behind her, bringing her back to where she was… and with who. She turned around, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“No,” she replied. There was no way she could pretend otherwise. She didn’t look up, didn’t want to see Alicia’s eyes, and whatever emotion might be in them.

“Was that…”

“My boyfriend.” She hesitated, unsure of what to say, of what to do. In the end, she did what she did best. “I have to go. Lo siento.”

She ran away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel like you need to insult me after this, I'm @uponanightsky on Twitter!


	4. Out of Sight...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: emotional and physical abuse. Though this was to be expected since Alberto is there, this chapter is tough, and if you feel like it would be too much for you, chapter 5 will be a retelling of the same events from Alicia’s POV. So if you’d rather skip this one, you won’t miss anything too important plot-wise. Much love.

Raquel wanted to run. It took every fibre of her being to stop herself from running. But running would turn her exit into an escape, and she didn’t know what she would be escaping, or even towards what she would be running. So she walked, clenching her fists by her sides and digging her nails into her palms, trying to distract herself from the whirlwind in her mind.

The wind was whipping her hair back into her face and there were hot and cold streaks on her cheeks where tears were rolling, unstoppable. She was barely conscious of any of it, though, because her heart was in her throat and her blood was ice cold and she was scared out of her mind.

Alberto had done his fair share of screaming since they’d got together, but the fact that he’d lost his usual cruel subtlety, resorting instead to insulting her and demanding that she bend to his will, made her certain that, whatever state she would find him in, lines would be crossed—a shiver shook her that had nothing to do with the cold.

She found herself back at her apartment far sooner than she would have liked. She opened the building door with shaking hands, and her footsteps echoed through the hall as she made her way to her door. She tried the handle; it was unlocked. Closing her eyes in silent prayer, she pushed it open, readying her body for the storm.

But there was no blow to her cheek, no glass crashing around her, no voice telling her to cover up. The flat was plunged into darkness. She held her breath. Her bag slid to the floor as she took a few tentative steps towards the kitchen.

It was as empty and cold as the hallway, but the faint glow of a lamppost was shining through the window, and she was able to spot black silk poking out of the bin. She didn’t dare check what it was—she already knew, and coming any closer would just make it more real.

She backed out of the kitchen and turned her attention to the bedroom. There was no light in the bathroom, no water running, so he had to be in the bedroom. In  _ her  _ bedroom. 

She pushed the door open with the tip of her toe. She tried to swallow, but her throat was tight, so tight she could barely breathe. The door slowly turned on its hinges, revealing the room inch by inch. The darkness was dense there, overwhelming. The ringing in Raquel’s ears subsided, just enough that she heard a soft noise, one she’d recognise from a thousand miles away—a sound that meant peace. Alberto was snoring. He was curled up on Raquel’s side of the bed, one of her band shirts folded under his face.

She stepped closer to the bed and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. He reeked of alcohol; her stomach turned, reminding her of how much  _ she’d  _ had.

She walked around the bed and stripped down to her underwear before putting on her pyjamas. She kicked her clothes under the bed with a sigh, hoping it’d be enough to protect them from Alberto’s wrath once he eventually woke up. She slipped under the covers, her head swimming with fear, exhaustion and alcohol.

Sleep came far more easily than she'd have thought, but when she woke up the next morning, she didn't have time to open her eyes before panic settled back into her, making her feel as if she weighed nothing, and might be carried away by a draft.

She slowly rolled onto her side, but the space beside her in the bed was empty and cold. Alberto had left. She got up on wobbly feet, and grabbed the first cardigan she found—her flat was always cold in the morning, and besides, she felt a nauseous haze surrounding her that might or might not have something to do with the tequila she’d absorbed the night before.

The night before.

"Alicia!" she gasped out.

What had she been thinking, going out with her? Drinking, dancing, touching, flirting… She knew she ought to feel guilty, but she only felt a vague ache beneath her ribs, like a magnet pulling her towards the older woman.

Who she would probably never see again, if the way they'd parted ways was any indicator.

Raquel sighed and ran a hand over her face. What a mess she had got herself in… Maybe she would call Alicia, and apologise. Or maybe she'd go back to La Guarida, say that she'd forgotten something. 

"Cariño, are you up?"

And once again, Raquel's blood froze in her veins.

She got out of her room, bracing for whatever would hit her, like for example the smell of toast and melted butter… Wait a minute.

She walked into the kitchen to find Alberto waiting for her with open arms, an apron tied around his waist and a timid smile stretching his lips. Raquel didn’t have time to think it through before she threw herself in his arms, holding him as tight as she could, shaking with relief. He wrapped his arms around her and ran his hands down her back.

“I’m sorry about last night, mi cielo, I had too much to drink and I acted like a fool. I was looking forward to seeing you, and I was just so disappointed… Lo siento mucho.”

Raquel’s heart was beating very fast, and she wasn’t sure what emotion she was feeling. The only thing she was sure of was that she shouldn’t forgive him. Too much had happened in the past few weeks, and she was starting to be more afraid of him than she’d ever been of anything else. It was as clear as day: she had to get out of this situation.

But, wrapped into his arms, his breath tickling her ear, his voice soft and his presence warm, she found herself unable to step away. After all, hadn’t she been the one about to cheat on him a few hours prior? She swallowed her doubts down and snuggled against his chest.

“Estoy bien, cariño. No pasa nada.”

The day went by like a fever dream. Raquel felt as though her feet never touched the ground—whether it was a good thing or not, she wasn’t sure.

Alberto pulled some strings to get them both off work, and took her on a date in the little café they’d had their first date in. He made her crepes for dinner, and proposed they watched her favourite movie. His hands barely left her body, and Raquel’s kisses were hardly enthusiastic, though he didn’t seem to mind. It was like her body had shut down, and only her vital functions remained, taking her from place to place like a robot.

Once they were in bed, his chest against her back providing much less comfort than she needed, she took a deep breath before admitting what she’d been thinking all day.

“I want to go back to work tomorrow.”

Alberto’s arms stiffened around her, confirming what she’d been fearing. He’d been expecting her to stay alone with him for a while. She didn’t dare imagine how long.

“Didn’t you like what I did for you today?”

The arm that was under Raquel pulled back and Alberto’s bony wrist dragged along her ribs, making her clench her jaw in pain. He propped himself up on his elbow, and the sudden weight and darkness of his presence were smothering.

“I did, of course I did.” Reluctantly, she turned around to face him and laid a hand on his face. “But I’m needed at the station. And so are you.”

He gave her a non-committal grunt and let himself fall back down, and before she could say anything else, he turned away from her.

“Perra ingrata,” he growled.

Raquel wasted no time in turning back. She moved so close to the edge of the bed that her arms and legs fell from the mattress. She bit her lip and closed her eyes as hard as she could, whishing she could just disappear.

She fell asleep with burning eyes and the taste of blood in her mouth.

The look in Alberto’s eyes when Raquel had looked up from her coffee that morning had yet to fade from her mind when, a few hours later, he called her into his office.

“The Pérez boy left, his mother just came to pick him up,” she said when she walked in. She knew he didn’t care about the Pérez boy, he probably didn’t even know who he was, but some part of her needed to let him know that she was working, solving cases and contributing to the station. His comments every now and then about her not needing to work if she lived with him were starting to weigh on her mind.

“I don’t care. Sit.”

She sat. She crossed her legs, and her arms, making a mental note that she knew enough about body language to know what she’d just done. She’d put a wall between her and him. Something maybe she should have done a long time ago, she thought, sadness washing over her.

“Who was that ‘friend’ you were out with the other night?” he asked. His tone was cold. Controlled, even, which worried Raquel even more. The way he said the word “friend” also indicated he hadn’t believed her—in a sense, she hadn’t even expected him to.

“Her name is Alicia, and—”

“So that’s what you do when I’m gone, huh? Follas con putas?”

“Alberto, that’s not…” she started, but she trailed off looking for excuses. She didn’t have any, she didn’t know how to reply to him, save for the fact that if he called Alicia a whore again, he’d end up with a bloody nose. “Can we not do this at work?”

He rose from his seat, long fingers coming to rest on the edge of his desk, allowing him to both push himself to his feet and lean towards her dangerously, and his eyes shimmered with barely-concealed fury when the door opened suddenly.

Ángel came in without a care in the world, barely shooting Alberto a glance before he turned to Raquel.

“Helena is looking for you. Come on!” he added when she didn’t immediately leap to her feet.

So Raquel stood up and followed him without looking back. She knew this wasn’t over, but at least she’d get a few minutes’ respite. Or maybe not so much, she thought, as Alberto followed closely behind her. She wondered what the secretary wanted with her.

She was about to grab the phone when a thought flashed through her—what if it had something to do with Alicia?

“Can you do it?” she asked Ángel, who frowned but didn’t hesitate before picking the phone back up.

“What is it?” Raquel prayed that Helena didn’t ask why she wasn’t the one asking. Apparently, she didn’t, because Ángel turned back to her, covering the phone’s mic. “There’s a woman looking for you.”

Raquel blinked. Looked at Alberto. Anger. Looked at Ángel. Confusion. Blink.

“What does she look like?”

“What does she look like?” Ángel repeated into the phone. “That’s what I’m asking. Tall… red hair…”

Raquel’s heart began to race. She didn’t know what Alicia wanted with her, but she was ready to get yelled at if it meant she’d get to see the redhead again. And yet, Alberto’s presence behind her told her that Alicia wouldn’t be the first one to scream if Raquel made even one move in the direction of wanting to see her.

“I’m not here,” she said dimly. “Can you go see what she wants?”

“Raquel’s not here. Tell that lady I’m coming, I’ll take a message.”

He hung up and, after an imperceptible nod of Raquel’s head, he was gone. She thought to herself that she ought to be nicer to him. He’d trusted her completely, hadn’t asked any questions—he’d probably perceived how uncomfortable she was. Maybe he even already had a vague idea of who Alicia was to Raquel. He was a good cop.

He came back a few minutes later and shook his head at Raquel.

“She was confused. She was looking for a Lourdes Murillo. You know, the woman from the bakery across the street.”

Raquel felt her eyes widen, but she kept her surprise to herself. There was something in Ángel’s voice, in his eyes, that made her feel like he wasn’t telling the truth. She felt gratitude burst in her chest, and decided that when things got better with Alberto, she’d invite him out for a cup of coffee.

The rest of the day went by surprisingly quickly, given how agitated Raquel felt. But Alberto didn’t call her back to his office, Ángel was surprisingly delicate and considerate, and she went on patrol around the cathedral, which lifted her spirits a little.

When she got back to the station, she found Ángel waiting for her at her desk.

“Alberto left for the night.” Raquel’s throat tightened. Had he gone home, or would she find him sitting at her kitchen table, rapping his fingers against it, and looking at her like a wolf looks at a lamb? “I need to talk to you.”

“I was just about to leave…” she started, and immediately, a glint of sadness invaded his eyes. He really was an open book. “What do you say we go grab a bite somewhere?”

They’d barely sat at their table in the nearest pizzeria they’d found that already Ángel was overflowing.

“I lied earlier. The woman who came, the redhead, she really was here for you.”

“I know. Thank you for not letting Alberto know.”

“Mind telling me what the hell is happening?”

And so Raquel told him the story of the woman who’d come into her life like a hurricane, ripping everything she thought she knew out of the ground and blowing it to the blue skies above. She told him about Tokio’s motorcycle, and about the ridiculous amount of whipped cream one needed to make a Marquina. She laughed, and he laughed with her, so hard that both of them choked on their pizza, but when it came to telling him about their last conversation… 

“I don’t know why, Ángel. I don’t know why I let myself get involved with her. But when I got that phone call, it was like my whole world crumbled around me. I haven’t… felt the same ever since. All I do is think of her, and how much she must hate me.” Tears were starting to fill her eyes and she shook her head, cutting herself off before she said too much. Poor Ángel didn’t need to hear about how heartbroken she was over a woman she barely knew.

“I don’t think anyone could hate you, no matter how hard they tried,” he said, softly, carefully, as if the wrong word could break her. He patted her shoulder.

“I think Alberto would disagree.”

“What do you mean?”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him the things that had been said, and done. She couldn’t put it into words. Speaking it would make everything more real, and she also knew Ángel would not give up until she’d put an end to the problem.

“Things are a bit rough right now,” was all that she managed to say. “But how are things with you and Mari Carmen?”

“Well, I met her parents the other day.” Any man would have been delighted to meet his girlfriend’s parents, but he seemed more mortified than anything. Poor Mari Carmen. Did she know the man she loved was in love with another?

“Thank you for tonight. I really needed it,” Raquel said as they parted ways. She kissed his cheek and smiled one last time before turning back.

“Wait, Raquel!” a voice called behind her a few minutes later. She turned around, surprised, to see a breathless Ángel jogging towards her. “I forgot to give you this! Dios, I can’t believe I forgot. It’s from Alicia.” He handed her a tiny piece of yellow paper. “Get home safe, vale?”

“Sí. Buenas.”

She didn’t look at him as he walked away. She didn’t even hear his footsteps echo down the street. She didn’t feel the cold wind on her face. All she could see was the unfolded sticky note she held in her hands, and she felt as if she might combust.

_ Raquel, I don’t know what happened but I wish you’d talk to me. I won’t be mad until I know there’s a reason for me to be. At least shoot me a text if you’re in any sort of danger. — A. _

What did she even mean, she wished Raquel would talk to her? Alicia hadn’t even tried to contact her! And what was that about being in danger? Raquel was confused, but in an incredibly happy way. Alicia wasn’t mad at her, and she was worried about her—probably because of the way Alberto had talked to her on the phone. She hadn’t thought she’d heard. 

She took her phone out and scrolled through her contacts with numb fingers and feverish eyes. She’d call her. She’d walk to La Guarida if she had to, but she’d apologise.

But no matter how much she looked, she couldn’t find Alicia’s number. She went to her call log, hoping to find the phone call she’d made the other night (maybe she’d forgotten to save the number) but all the numbers were registered—and none were hers. That’s when it hit her.

When Alicia had come to the station that morning, Raquel had left her phone in Alberto’s office. She’d only gone and fetched it before leaving for lunch, nearly two hours later. He must’ve wiped it clean of all traces of Alicia—Raquel cursed herself for telling her name to Alberto. Now she had no way of contacting the older woman.

She had half-decided to walk to the pub when her phone buzzed to life, showing an incoming call. Alberto. Who else. She picked up.

“When will you be home? I’ve been waiting.”

So he’d gone back to her flat. Uninvited, of course.

“I’ll be right there.”

She knew she didn’t have the luxury to go see Alicia. It would only make Alberto go mad, and who knows what he might do. To Raquel, but also to Alicia, if he ever found out where she worked or lived. She couldn’t afford to put her at risk.

The days went by in a blur. A hellish blur. Alberto was angry from the instant he opened his eyes in the morning to the blissful moment they closed, late at night, and Raquel was exhausted. She was constantly forced to tiptoe, and she never spoke too loud, for fear that he’d fly into a rage and scream Alicia’s name like she was the one who’d perverted Raquel, turned her into a slut, but actually no, that wasn’t true, she’d always been a fucking whore, and that was why she’d thrown herself at him—

Raquel had lost all notion of time. Sleep and wakefulness were just the same feeling of emptiness, over and over again. She didn’t speak a word to anyone that she didn’t need to say. The only change in her heart’s monotone melody was when she got a notification that Alicia had requested to follow her Instagram, but Alberto had been right behind her shoulder, making her delete the notification with a raise of his eyebrow.

The next day, an unknown number called Raquel. She wished, with her whole soul, that it was Alicia, caring enough for her still that she wouldn’t give up. She let the call go to voicemail and deleted the number from her call history. She tried to memorise the numbers, but after a few hours, she wasn’t sure what was a zero and what was a four anymore, and the days started their impassible dance again.

Some time after that, she received a text. Alberto had left in the afternoon for a meeting in Madrid, and wouldn’t be back until the next evening, so she let herself open it, even if she still looked around to the emptiness of her flat, as if the furniture could tell on her.

_ I hope everything is alright for you. I wish you the best and won’t bother you anymore. Yours, Alicia. _

She couldn’t have stopped the tears that filled her eyes even if she’d tried. “Yours”. The word felt so foreign. How could someone be hers, when she didn’t even belong to herself? “Won’t bother you anymore”. Raquel’s only hope vanished in front of her eyes. Her only escape.

She was busy stirring a casserole when Alberto came through the front door. She supposed it must have smelled delicious, but to her, it only smelled like gray.

“Hola,” she said, smiling at her boyfriend.

“Tengo hambre.”

And, before she had a chance to move or even think, he grabbed her phone and unlocked it. It took only a few seconds for his face to morph from annoyance into fury, and he slowly looked up at her.

“What the fuck is this?”

“I don’t know what—”

“She’s ‘yours’, huh? Puta de mierda!”

Next thing Raquel knew, her phone was being hurled at her, and she managed to grab it before it hit her face. But in the time it took for her to lower her hand, Alberto was in front of her, hand raised. The blow to her cheek knocked the air out of her lungs.

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

“Delete it. Block her number and delete the fucking text.”

She couldn’t do that. If she did that, she’d be cutting off her only way out. But hadn’t Alicia already done that? “Won’t bother you anymore.” She wanted nothing to do with her anymore. And yet… Raquel couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she might care enough to help her if she told her what was going on. She brought back her focus to Alberto, still seething in front of her.

“No,” she said. Her voice wavered. Only a whisper. But he heard her. Her face snapped to the side with another blow from him.

“I wasn’t asking.”

So she unlocked her phone again and blocked Alicia’s number. It only took her a few seconds, but it was like everything was in slow-motion. There was a ringing in her ear where he’d hit her, but she could hear, as if someone was calling out to her from outside the window, a voice.  _ Raquel. _ She wanted to run towards that voice, and never come back.  _ Don’t do it.  _ She had to. She pressed the little bin, and Alicia’s last words to her disappeared.

“I’m going out. Give me your keys.”

“But you have yours—”

“I know that. I also know that a little slut like you would try to run away and see her. And that’s not happening. Give. Me. Your keys.”

She gave him her keys. He left without looking back. The very instant the lock clicked into place, her knees gave out and she sank to the floor. She thought she might cry, but her eyes were dry. Dry like a field in August. Dry like she felt. Empty.

At some point, she managed to drag herself to her bedroom, but her bed didn’t seem as inviting as it usually was. Not a promise of rest, just an open space where she was vulnerable. Instead, she curled up between the radiator and the wall, chin on her knees, her heart still racing.

How long she stayed there, completely still except for the rise and fall of her chest and the occasional blinking, she couldn’t tell. The sky had already been dark for a few hours and the traffic outside her window was just as it usually was. Life was still going on, outside.

After a while, the moon appeared from behind the clouds, and a ray of light fell through her window. She watched the patch of white carpet with intent, as if it might transform into a tunnel for her to escape through. There was only a piece of paper there, lying beside what had been her outfit for one of the best (and worst) nights of her life.

She tried to imagine what might be on that paper. Maybe a receipt for something, or a note she’d made for herself. Eventually, she unfolded her legs, wincing at how sore her knees were from sitting still for too long, and crawled to it. Only when she grabbed it did she realise—”llámame”.

This was Alicia’s number.


	5. Alicia's Lament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the NERVE to be late _and_ short. Sorry about that. Hope you enjoy nonetheless!

As Alicia watched Raquel disappear into the night, she felt nothing but pure, all-consuming anger. She was angry at the brunette for ditching her. She was angry at herself for wanting to run after her. She was angry at the world for letting the phone call go through. But most of all…

The boyfriend. Alberto. His name was enough to set off a thousand fires inside of her mind. The rage that filled her veins when she thought about how easily Raquel had lied to her, manipulated her, made her think, even for a few hours, that something might happen between them, was unlike anything she’d ever known. She felt cheated on—even though she’d been damn close to being the one Raquel would have cheated  _ with _ .

Because there was no doubt that Alicia hadn’t imagined the spark between them. It was too bright, too electric to be a figment of her imagination. But she didn’t fuck with people who were taken—especially since Raquel felt so guilty about it that she didn’t even mention the guy.

She went back inside of the club, knocked back a few more glasses of tequila under Palermo’s surprised gaze and danced, danced until she dropped, exhausted, in a seat. Someone must have brought her back home, because the next time she opened her eyes, they fell on her bedside alarm clock. In the drunken haze that was her mind, she thought it must have been Helsinki.

  
When she woke up the next morning, head pounding and ears ringing, she found a note scribbled in Palermo’s handwriting on her kitchen table.

_ Cariño, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but call her. I’ll tell Nairobi you’re taking a day off. Cuídate. - Martín _

The events of the previous night rushed back into Alicia’s mind, chaotic and out of order, like a supercut of the brightest colours and darkest flashes she’d ever seen, Raquel’s hands on her, and her body running around the corner, out of view. The difference between the taste of tequila when it was shared and when she’d drowned in it. How light the younger woman had made her feel, and how much the fall had bruised her. She sat down, feeling a sob tearing at her throat.

It took her a full hour to completely stop crying and, in the meantime, she’d managed to have breakfast, take a shower and get dressed. Not bad. She didn’t exactly know why she felt the way she did, but she wasn’t ready to think about it too much.

She dialled Nairobi’s number.

“Ali! Qué coño está pasando? Palermo told me he and Helsinki had to take you home because you passed out at the club. That’s not like you, Ali.”

“I… it’s complicated. Something went wrong with Raquel.”

“Ah.”

“I’ll explain later.”

“But Palermo said—”

“He was wrong.”

She hung up, instantly regretting her bluntness. She’d apologise to Nairobi later. Her call history showed up on her screen, and her finger hovered over Raquel’s name for a bit longer than she’d have liked before she shoved her phone back into her pocket.

“... and just like that, she was gone. I swear to God, in that instant, I wanted to kill every single person in sight,” Alicia said with a snort, looking up into Nairobi’s eyes. Whatever she was expecting to find in them—empathy, righteous anger, whatever proved she was on her side—she found the exact opposite. Her brunette friend was looking at her like she’d gone insane.

“Not cool, obviously, but that guy sounds like a fucking abuser, no?”

Alicia took a sip from the glass she was holding, now wishing she’d traded her usual apple juice for something stronger. She’d barely recovered from the previous night’s hangover, but she still felt too sober to deal with the situation she found herself in.

“I may have gotten the words wrong,” she muttered. “Anyways, this is all in the past, right? She was way too young for me anyway. She’d only have been a bit of fun.”

“Whatever you say,” Nairobi replied. “I still think you should check in on her. But right now, you’ve come to work, so get to work. I need to get to the kitchen.”

“Oye, I’m your boss, young lady, not the other way around.”

Only when she pushed the door of her flat above the pub, late that night, did she let herself think about Nairobi’s words. Her anger had subsided, washed away by her sadness and disappointment, and in the midst of all of this, like a lighthouse in a storm, stood a growing fear that Raquel might in fact be in distress.

She grabbed a lollipop from her candy jar and popped it in her mouth, before heading over to her living room and turning on the TV. She’d swing by the police station the next day, check on Raquel and disappear from her life forever. It was better that way. They weren’t from the same world, and Alicia wanted Raquel too much for how little she knew her.

She thought back to the way her whole perception of the world had seemed to shift, from the moment she’d seen the lonely brunette sitting at the bar, nursing a drink she hadn’t seemed to like. She could still feel the reciprocated pull, the unquestionable attraction, the ache to learn more and more about her… and still there’d been a weight in her chest, something that told her to keep her distance. That she’d end up hurting Raquel, somehow. Well, at least now she knew her intuition was shit. The danger she’d perceived, for once, didn’t emanate from her.

Lost in thought, she drifted in and out of consciousness for most of the night, only managing to gather enough strength to get herself in bed at around 5. But through all her slumber, the only thing she could see was Raquel’s silhouette, disappearing, again and again, slipping through her fingers.

At 10 the next morning, she only took the time to get dressed, and her toothbrush was barely out of her mouth that already she was locking the door behind her. She didn’t even know that she knew the way to the police station, and was almost taken aback when she found herself in front of an elderly secretary, who looked up at her like she was the dullest thing to ever happen to her. She raised two perfectly manicured eyebrows at her and when she spoke, her voice sounded like dry cake.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Raquel Murillo,” Alicia said, immensely uncomfortable. The more she thought about it, the less legitimate she felt in coming here. “Por favor.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“What is this, the nurse’s office? No, I don’t have an appointment!” The exasperation in her voice was strange even to herself—but she found that she ached to see Raquel, to know that she was okay, and to know why she’d come to El Atraco in the first place. “I just… I need to see her. It’s important.”

The woman rolled her eyes and picked up her phone. She dialled a single number. A few seconds passed.

“Dónde está Murillo?” There was a long pause. Thirty seconds passed, maybe a minute, when finally… “Yes, there’s a woman here who wants to see her. What do you mean, what does she look like? Bueno, she’s tall, red hair…” Another pause. “Alright, alright.” She hung up and bore her silver eyes into Alicia’s. “Murillo’s not here. But Inspector Rubio is coming, he’ll take a message.”

Alicia groaned. Raquel  _ was  _ there, she was sure of it, but she couldn’t exactly force her way into an office full of policemen. She grabbed a sticky note and a pen from the secretary’s desk, ignoring the death glare it earned her. She scribbled something, as small as she could so that she’d have enough space.

_ Raquel, I don’t know what happened but I wish you’d talk to me. I won’t be mad until I know there’s a reason for me to be. At least shoot me a text if you’re in any sort of danger. — A. _

As she clicked the pen and folded the note, she felt a presence behind her and she turned around, staring angrily at the imposing man in front of her. Rubio, it seemed.

“Give this to her,” she said, handing him the note, “and tell her I said hi.”

She didn’t give him time to answer—she strolled out of the crowded hall, feeling considerably angrier than when she’d walked in. She couldn’t believe that Raquel would send a colleague to get a message from her. Especially a moron like that inspector.

Raquel didn’t call that day. Alicia supposed she ought to have been glad, because it meant she was alright, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop checking her phone.

Two days later, she gave in to curiosity and requested to follow Raquel’s Instagram account, which she’d found not long before the brunette had joined her at the club, along with her other social media accounts, all of which were private—not surprising, for a police officer, but frustrating. Within a few hours, her request had been denied. Tokio shot her a sympathetic glance, and she shrugged.

On day five, Alicia tried to call Raquel, not hoping for much more than what she got; her sweet voice instructing to leave a message.

Alicia was proud of the way she maintained her composure. La Guarida was doing well, Nairobi and Tokio were at their best, and she’d somehow convinced Palermo that she was alright.

After all, none of them needed to know the mess that was her mind, the swirling and spiralling thoughts of a young woman disappearing into the night. It kept her awake and haunted her dreams, it chased her in the streets and made her think she saw her sitting at the furthest table, sipping on a mug of whipped cream.

She felt ridiculous, ashamed almost, of feelings that she wasn’t supposed to feel. She was a grown woman, and the only viable option was to let Raquel go. All the logical arguments pointed to it: Raquel was too young, too fragile, too unsure, too taken, and Alicia had only known her for a week (only seen her twice). But she couldn’t bring herself to do what she’d said she’d do. Meeting the young woman had been like growing another limb. And cutting it off would be the most painful thing she’d ever had to do.

On day six, she followed a blonde woman home from El Atraco. They had a fairly good time—making a beautiful woman moan and writhe underneath her always lifted her spirits—but when the blonde started crying about how Alicia looked exactly like her ex, the redhead made her a cup of tea and left without looking back.

She was drunk enough to call Raquel and leave a voicemail, but not drunk enough not to delete it when she was done, a heavy sigh sitting atop her lips. If only Raquel had answered.

On day seven, Alicia sent a text that read “I hope everything is alright for you. I wish you the best and won’t bother you anymore. Yours, Alicia.”

She barely slept that night, restless and anxious—like the night before a big trip, minus the euphoria. She had an inexplicable feeling that something was coming, but she had no clue as to what it was—there was only a vague shadow looming in the future.

The eighth evening since the last time Alicia had seen Raquel found the redhead sitting in her kitchen, sipping from a scalding cup of cinnamon tea while absentmindedly reading an article on some rock band she barely knew. She was in the middle of a deep yawn when her phone rang. With blurry eyes and a mind fogged up by the lack of sleep, she swiped her finger across the screen.

“Hola?”

“Alicia.” She sat up in her seat, eyes wide and spine straight, like she’d been struck by lightning. In a way, she had been. “Soy Raquel. Necesito ayuda.”


	6. The Flight

When the doorbell rang, Raquel’s heart started beating so erratically she thought she might die. She raced to the intercom and picked it up with shaking hands.

“Raquel?”

Her eyes filled with tears as she buzzed the front door open.

“First door on the right,” she whispered. She still had the feeling that the shadows could hear her.

Alicia knocked on her door a few minutes later, and Raquel, hand flat against the wooden panel, had to hold herself up because her knees had gone weak with relief. She looked through the peephole and the sight of Alicia’s furrowed brows and concerned eyes lit a tiny flame inside of her which she’d thought she’d never see again.

“Can you hear me?” she breathed out.

“Yeah. Why don’t you open the door?” A single tear rolled down her cheek. The peace that Alicia’s voice immediately instilled in her was both overwhelming and frightening. She realised with a tight throat that she would follow wherever Alicia decided to take her tonight, and that she trusted her in a way she had never trusted her own boyfriend.

“I can’t. He locked me in.”

“The window?”

“This is the ground floor. We have bars to keep people out.” She laughed bitterly. “I could break myself out, but I’d need a hairpin, and I don’t own any of those.”

“The policewoman who knew how to pick locks. Hold on, I must have one in my bag.”

There were a few moments of silence, then Raquel saw the carpet bunch up at her feet. She crouched and picked up the hairpin that Alicia had slid under the door. Somehow, her mind was now as clear as a windless night, and she was calmer than she’d been in days when she inserted the black pin in the lock, working and wiggling it until she heard a loud click. She was free.

A few seconds later, she was in Alicia’s arms, being held so tight she thought she might disappear into her. She wouldn’t have minded.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” she asked when they eventually pulled away.

Alicia searched her eyes, intently, with such intensity that Raquel felt like she was being laid bare in front of her. But she couldn’t tell her what she wanted to know.  _ What happened? _ Not here, no now, not like that. She just needed to get out. Comprehension flashed in Alicia’s eyes and she nodded.

“Of course. Do you want to get some of your stuff? I can lend you anything.”

“I’ll just get my toothbrush and a change of underwear or something.”

They walked through the city in silence, though it wasn’t nearly as late as Raquel had thought it was, so they were surrounded by the noises of people talking, laughing, of cars passing by and children running around. The centre of the city was always alive, it seemed, with a sense of utter joy that never seemed to fade. Raquel was grateful for that tonight.

They arrived in front of La Guarida’s purple neon sign, and Alicia turned to Raquel.

“Do you want to go in and say hello, or would you rather we went home?”

“I…” She thought about it. She thought about Tokio’s kind smile and Nairobi’s sparkling eyes. She thought about the lights, and the music, and the people… She wanted to go back. More than anything. But she couldn’t. “I don’t think I can, I’m sorry.”

“No worries.”

Alicia resumed walking, and Raquel followed suit, gratitude blooming in her chest that Alicia was so willing to listen to her and her needs, no questions asked. Maybe it wouldn’t last, but it was enjoyable for now.

The back of their hands brushed and Raquel’s mind lit up with a thousand possibilities at once. The rational side of her brain told her it was only because she was hurt, she was looking for crumbs of comfort wherever she would find them, but then again, she really wanted to spin Alicia around, pin her to the brick wall they were walking next to, and kiss her until she couldn’t remember who she was. Deciding that she deserved at least that, she laced their fingers together, and Alicia gasped softly.

“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

Raquel’s heart could have burst with affection for the older woman who, despite having been dragged out of her house to rescue her, was still more gentle and more caring than any of Raquel’s boyfriends had ever been.

“I want to. If that’s okay with you.”

“It is.” Alicia’s voice was only a whisper, and Raquel swallowed hard. She wasn’t supposed to want Alicia right now. Not so soon. But perhaps it was because of everything that happened that she stopped walking, their intertwined hands forcing Alicia to stop too. The redhead looked at her, confused.

“I’m a mess,” Raquel said. “I’m all over the place, I don’t know what I want and what I don’t, I feel like everything I know was a lie.”

“It’s okay, I-” Alicia started, letting go of her hand. But Raquel held on.

“No, nothing is okay. Nothing is, Alicia. But if there’s one thing I know—and it doesn’t have to mean anything, I’m not ready for anything to mean anything—it’s that I desperately want to kiss you.”

Alicia’s eyes widened imperceptibly. Lust invaded them in a matter of seconds, but she didn’t move.

“Is that a good idea?” she asked, and the desire in her voice was painfully obvious.

“Probably not.”

She grabbed the lapels of Alicia’s coat and pulled her towards her. Their lips met, softly, slowly. For a few seconds, they didn’t move; eyes closed and hands on each other, they held their breaths. Time seemed to stop around them.

“Oh, fuck it,” Alicia groaned against Raquel’s mouth. Her hands tangled in Raquel’s hair and both of them opened their mouths at the same time. Tongue met tongue and Raquel moaned, her hands leaving Alicia’s coat to grapple at her waist. But when her sweater rode up and Raquel’s fingers grasped at her soft skin, Alicia gasped and took a step back.

Raquel’s heart immediately sank in her chest and her hands dropped to her sides. Didn’t Alicia want this as much as Raquel did?

“I want you,” Alicia said, as if she could read her mind. “God, I want you, Raquel. But something happened with Alberto, and you’re clearly not okay. I don’t… I don’t want to risk doing anything that you might regret. Alright?”

Raquel could see it now, the years that separated Alicia from her. The way the redhead’s voice had gone soft, and careful—not to mention the fact that she’d even thought about Raquel’s wellbeing. As incongruous as the thought was, she thought that Ángel would never have reacted the same way.

But as much as she enjoyed the idea of someone treating her with consideration and respect, there as also a side of her that felt like a child being scolded, and she wasn’t enjoying it.

“I’m a big girl, you know.” she said sadly.

“I know,” Alicia replied. Her nose and eyes scrunched up in amusement. “No doubt about that. But still, you  _ are  _ young. And while you’re bound to make mistakes, I’d rather not help you make them.”

Raquel cocked her head to the side.

“You think we’re a mistake?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Alicia shook her head with a fond smile, and Raquel dropped her act. She did know what she meant. She was just disappointed.

“Some mistakes taste better than others, I suppose,” she said with a smirk. “Come on, I’m freezing out there.”

Alicia led Raquel to the small street that ran behind La Guarida and opened the door next to the one Raquel knew led to the back of the pub. They climbed an endless flight of stairs and, just when Raquel thought she might never be able to catch her breath ever again, they reached a landing.

“Living above the pub makes the stairs worth it, I promise,” Alicia said with a teasing chuckle, seeing how tired Raquel was. “And it’s good cardio.”

“Sure,” Raquel replied. “But open that door or I’m sleeping here.”

“So eager.”

“You have no idea.”

Alicia’s laughter roared and echoed through the staircase as she unlocked her door and pushed it open. Raquel thought that she’d have laughed less if she’d known how serious she was, but she laughed along.

Alicia’s flat was similar to the pub in that it was all in length, but the space was much narrower. Raquel couldn’t help the childish grin that stretched her mouth. They were just under the roof, and beams ran along the ceiling, with plants dangling from each one of them. The furniture was all made from the same dark brown wood as the walls, floor and ceiling, and there were plants on the shelves among the books, on the floor, and everywhere else her eyes could see.

“You had a treehouse as a kid, didn’t you?” she said, more than she asked.

Alicia stood behind her, as if to let her take the place in. Facing the front door was the kitchen area, separated from the rest of the room by a tiled counter, and beyond that was the dining table and a brown leather couch. To the right was the bathroom, as indicated by the little “Baño” sign hanging by a string, and at the other end of the room was a doorless doorframe, through which she could see a desk, overflowing with papers and notebooks—and a few more plants.

“So?” Alicia asked as she finally moved, walking past Raquel to drop her bag on the couch before dropping next to it, sighing softly.

“I love it! Very witchy if you ask me,” the brunette replied with a smirk. She pulled a chair at the dining table, sat down and lowered her own bag onto the floor, her muscles screaming out in relief.

“Nice witch though, right?”

Raquel’s smile was her only answer. She felt exhausted. The adrenaline and fear of the past few days had held her body up, allowed her to do what she needed to do, but it was all coming down now. She thought that she would only need to lay her head on the table, and she would fall asleep.

Alicia must have picked up on it because she got up and extended a hand towards Raquel.

“Come on. You’ll sleep in my bed.” Raquel’s eyes widened a bit, but she grabbed Alicia’s hand and followed her through the first room, which had another bookshelf and the desk she’d seen earlier. At the end of the room was another door, which Alicia opened to reveal a small room with a high ceiling. The space was almost entirely taken up by a huge four-poster bed and the walls were lined with racks, from which hung a variety of black clothes.

“This is my room,” Alicia said with a nervous smile, scratching the back of her head.

“I love it.”

Dark red curtains hung from the bed’s frame, and Raquel knew that if she reached out and touched, they would be from the same velvet as the purple one at the pub underneath them.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll just grab my stuff to go sleep on the couch.”

Raquel didn’t to be told twice. She rummaged through her bag and grabbed her toothbrush before heading to the bathroom.

When she came back, Alicia got up from the couch.

“Didn’t know if you’d mind me brushing my teeth with you so I waited.”

“You didn’t need to… but thank you,” Raquel replied with a smile.

She went and sat in Alicia’s giant bed, wondering how a thing so big had ended up in such a tiny flat—the cosy sort of tiny though, and Raquel would have traded her big flat for this one anytime. 

When she heard the bathroom door open on the other side of the flat, she got up again and faced Alicia, feeling small in her pyjama tank top and shorts. Alicia was still fully dressed, her tight black clothes making her look like some sort of supermodel. She’d got rid of her makeup, though, and her face looked a thousand times softer than it usually did.

“Would you… would you sleep with me?” Raquel asked, chewing her bottom lip nervously. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I—”

“Sure.”

Soon enough, they were tucked under the covers, Alicia’s arms around Raquel’s waist as the brunette stared ahead into the darkness. Ten minutes passed, twenty maybe. Alicia’s breaths were soft on Raquel’s neck, but Raquel couldn’t tell whether she was sleeping or not.

“He hit me,” she whispered. “It had been getting worse and worse, but he’d never hit me. Until tonight.”

There was no response. No sign that Alicia had heard her. But saying it aloud was relief enough, and Raquel felt herself drift away into unconsciousness.

She woke up the next morning to an empty bed, but the warmth in her chest largely compensated for that. So Alicia was an early bird. Raquel stretched lazily in the morning sun coming through the window and got up. She grabbed her jumper at the end of the bed, trying to keep the sleepy warmth from disappearing into the cold.

“Alicia?” she called out, but only the silence replied.

She waddled to the kitchen, to find a note on the table.

_ I had to go do something. There’s coffee on the stove, you just have to heat it up. Be back by 10. _

The note would have seemed cold to anyone else, but Raquel knew better than that. She smiled to herself; she’d fallen asleep in Alicia’s and was now waking up to a note from her. She had yet to know everything about her, but she trusted her entirely. And while that should have worried her, it simply… didn’t. She felt safe. That was new.

She turned on the stove and settled in her chair. She wondered whether she should check her phone or not. She was supposed to be at work right now and probably had worried messages from her colleagues, but she would also most likely have many murderous messages from Alberto.

In the end, she decided to go get it, if only to check the time. But as she grabbed it, it buzzed to life, to show an incoming call from Ángel. She swiped right to accept the call.

“Hola, Ángel. Cómo estás?”

“I’m alright. Raquel, I don’t know what happened with Alberto,” Raquel’s blood froze. “But Alicia was here just a moment ago. She… It wasn’t pretty.”

“What the fuck happened?”

‘I had to go do something’, Alicia had said in her note. What the hell had she done?

“She yelled at him. And I say yelled… it sounded more like she was cursing his whole bloodline. She looked like she was about to punch him but then she just left. She also said…”

“Qué?”

“She said that if he tried to come after you, she’d raise Hell and Heaven against him.” Raquel was too stunned to say anything. Her thoughts were racing, trying to make sense of what she’d just learned, but only one thing was crystal clear. Alicia had heard her last night.

She thanked Ángel and hung up. She had never felt more conflicted in her life. Some part of her felt grateful, but the overwhelming emotion was anger. And maybe because of that very anger, she got rid of all of her notifications before dialling Alicia’s number.

“Hey, you,” the older woman said. Her voice was soft but there was an edge to it.

“So what, I kiss you, we cuddle a bit and you think you have the right to go and do… whatever the hell it was you just did?”

“How did you…”

“Ángel. But nevermind that.”

“Listen, I know I overstepped. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry. Can we talk about it when I get home?”

Alicia’s apology was like a cold shower on Raquel’s temper.

“Yeah, sure. See you soon.”

When Alicia came through the door half an hour later, Raquel had still not figured out what she was feeling. Or what she wanted to feel, for that matter. But the sight of the redhead shrugging off her coat with an apologetic smile made it clear to her that she wasn’t mad anymore.

“Can I go first?” Alicia asked as she took a seat opposite Raquel. The brunette nodded. “When I heard what you said last night, I didn’t know what to do. What to say. And I figured that holding you as you fell asleep would bring you more comfort than any clumsy word I could have said.”

“It did,” Raquel conceded.

“But the hatred against that… that absolute piece of shit… it didn’t go away during the night. And when I woke up and saw you sleeping there, peaceful, pure, trusting… Something took over me. And it wasn’t until I’d said my piece that I realised I shouldn’t have gone. With what you’ve just been through, someone taking control and doing something in your name without asking first… That was the very worst thing I could have done. So I left, but the harm was already done. I’m sorry.”

Alicia had just summed up everything that Raquel had been feeling, and she felt herself deflate like a failed soufflé. All of the fear from the previous days came rushing back into her and she only realised she’d started crying when Alicia rose from her chair and rushed to her side, cradling her in her arms.

“Thank you,” she croaked out through the sobs that shook her.

“For what, cariño?” Alicia whispered in her hair.

“Just… thank you.”

When she’d calmed down enough to take a full breath, Alicia let go of her and kissed her cheek softly. Raquel cursed herself for being such a mess. If things had been different, she would have been tearing her clothes off and kissing her into oblivion but instead, there she was, being taken care of like a baby duck.

The rest of the day went by quickly. She helped Alicia in the kitchen and went back to bed after lunch, finding that she was still exhausted. Alicia busied herself with administrative work and the sound of pen scribbling on paper lulled Raquel to sleep. The sight of Alicia working at her desk sent thought shooting through her mind that had her body heating up in some places, but she was too tired to indulge in them, so she let go, vaguely hoping to see that desk again in her dreams.

She woke up around 5, feeling much better. She called a locksmith and booked an appointment for an hour later, before calling Ángel.

“Hey, me again. I need your help.”

Alicia’s warm smile comforted her. She was doing the right thing.

A new set of keys in hand, she headed for the police station. Ángel was waiting for her outside, as they’d agreed. She kissed his cheek in greeting, and his smile was just sad enough that Raquel knew he’d understood what had happened.

“It’s a good thing, what you’re doing,” he said. She nodded, and they headed inside.

They crossed the deserted lobby and went up the stairs to their group’s room. When they passed the door, Raquel’s eyes filled with tears. Ángel had done exactly what she’d asked him to do, but, in true Ángel fashion, he’d gone above and beyond. All of their colleagues were there. All of them. Greeting her with a smile. The only person who didn’t look like he was happy to see her was the very reason for all of this. Seeing Alberto again had her blood turn cold, but she pushed through her emotions and cleared her throat.

“Right. Thank you all for coming. Maybe some of you noticed that I wasn’t here today. The reason for that is that… Alberto and I were dating.” There were some gasps among the crowd, but most people just nodded. They’d all suspected. “But last night… Alberto hit me. Twice.” This time, there was an outraged rumour, growing louder and louder. Everyone turned around to face the Inspector.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he growled, looking straight at Raquel like there wasn’t a room full of people ready to hit him at a moment’s notice.

She summoned every ounce of courage she could find and took a few steps towards him.

“I’m leaving you, Alberto. I had my lock changed, so you can throw away your keys, and from now on, we’re strangers. We will see each other at work, but that’s it. And if you try anything, remember that I have a room full of witnesses.” She turned back and nodded at Ángel. She was ready to leave. “Helena, cariño, cash in all of my vacation days.” The elderly woman nodded with a smile. “Thank you.”

Shouts erupted behind her as she left the room, all of them directed at Alberto. She smiled. She was out of breath and her heart was racing, but she felt relieved. She knew Alberto well enough to know that he wouldn’t try anything. Not after that. She was safe.

Ángel walked her home and she hugged him tightly before he left. No words could ever express her gratitude towards him.

“What about Alicia?” he asked when she pulled away.

“Well, I—” An idea popped in her mind. “Do you have anywhere you need to be tonight? Because there’s a club I’d love to take you to. And I can tell you everything when we get there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one! Just letting you know that I do read every single one of your comments and they always make my day. Thank you all for reading!!


	7. Hot Cocoa

The weeks that followed the breakup were remarkably peaceful. Raquel had expected to be jumpy, looking behind her for a menacing figure, but she found that she was at peace with herself and, surprisingly, with Alberto. She wasn’t scared of seeing him. She knew he was a coward, and by breaking herself from his influence, she had broken the bond that made him believe he had the right to lay a hand on her. And besides, she wasn’t isolated anymore. She had Ángel, who turned out to be a great friend, even if she could still see the hurt in his eyes when she mentioned Alicia. She had Alicia, too. They’d gone out for coffee, they’d gone back to El Atraco, they’d watched TV curled up on Raquel’s couch and spent evenings reading at Alicia’s dinner table, endless refills of chai tea carrying them through the night.

They hadn’t discussed what they were, or even the kiss, for that matter. Raquel wasn’t sure she was ready to put words on what she was feeling, and she knew Alicia understood.

Christmas came and went. Raquel spent it with her mother, and Mariví’s sigh of relief when Raquel told her she’d ended things with Alberto made her wonder how many people had seen what she had been too blind to accept. She didn’t tell her about Alicia, because could she have said? But her mother’s numerous comments about how much happier Raquel seemed didn’t go unnoticed, and Raquel’s heart swelled with the sentiment that she was on the path to a better life.

She had to go back to work after that, but after long discussions with her mother, as well as Alicia, she only went back to the station to announce she was quitting.

“I’m too young to be stuck in a job that doesn’t fulfil me,” she told her colleagues, the sting of tears burning her eyes, but mouth stretched in a genuine smile. “I will miss you all dearly, but you all have my number and I’d be more than happy to catch up over a cup of coffee one of these days.”

When she went to El Atraco that night to celebrate the life-changing decision, Helsinki offered to train her so she could come work with them. She shrugged off the offer with a smile, but she called him back the next day to ask when she could start.

Because knowing Alicia had brought her a flurry of new friends, all caring for her as if they’d known her all their lives. She could almost not count all the times she had been out with Nairobi and Tokio anymore, trading stories of the very different lives they’d lived. Denver had sworn to protect her from any crazy ex who dared look her way. Palermo and Helsinki proved to be amazing mentors, and after two weeks she officially became a member of El Atraco’s team.  _ Lisboa _ , because ‘you too are beautiful and bright, and make anyone who knows you have hope again’. She teared up and they hugged her, and there was something tugging at her chest that she hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever. A sense of belonging.

The plan was to spend New Year’s Eve at Tokio’s—she and her boyfriend Aníbal were hosting a party. Raquel had raised her eyebrows when she’d heard the news because she had never heard a word about this Aníbal, and had (apparently wrongfully) assumed she and Nairobi were an item. She told Alicia as much one evening, and Alicia laughed, throwing her head back.

“They’ll get there, don’t worry,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes that made Raquel realise she wasn’t the only one who’d come to this conclusion.

The party was amazing, alcohol and weed apparently in endless supplies. When the clock struck midnight, Raquel pulled an astounded Alicia into a searing kiss, and everyone around them laughed and clapped, and Raquel’s heart felt so full that she thought she could never be happier than she was in that particular moment.

She was wrong.

Alicia pulled her into one of the guest rooms, locked the door behind them, and made love to her until Raquel struggled to remember her own name. Her mind was swimming with a thousand emotions, her ears were full of the music next door and of her own laboured breathing, and Alicia’s skin against her was surely what heaven was like.

That brought forth a change in their relationship that Raquel welcomed with open arms. Instead of just enjoying each other’s company, they started telling each other about their pasts, their expectations for the future, their fears and the little things they loved in life.

The more Raquel learned about the older woman, the more she wanted to know. But there was one thing they never talked about—Alicia’s age. Raquel had this irrational fear that asking Alicia about it would make her realise the difference between them was too big, and that she would run away.

So, on January 16, when Alicia stopped her outside of El Atraco and looked at her with a sheepish look in her eyes, Raquel wouldn’t have expected the words that left her mouth in a thousand years.

“So… I probably should have told you earlier,” the redhead started, more hesitant than Raquel had ever sene her, “but today might be my birthday.” Raquel felt her eyes widen. “And there’s a strong possibility that there’s a surprise party waiting for me in there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Raquel asked, searching Alicia’s eyes. “I didn’t even get you a gift!”

Alicia scratched the back of her head, looking around at the people waiting to enter the club, avoiding Raquel’s eyes.

“You never asked about my age, and I started thinking that… maybe… you didn’t like thinking about how much older than you I am. Which I understand. I don’t like thinking about it either. You’re so young, and you have your whole life ahead of you, and I’m, well—”

“Hey, hey, stop that,” Raquel interrupted, laying her hands on Alicia’s shoulders, forcing her to look at her. “I don’t care. I find it fascinating that you have lived through so much stuff, and that you have so many stories to tell. I didn’t ask about your age because I thought  _ you  _ minded about the age difference.”

Unable to resist, she pulled Alicia into a kiss, not minding that there was a whole crowd there watching them. Their lips met softly, gently. It felt different. More intimate than the other kisses they’d shared. More intimate even than the times when, in the dead of night, Alicia had Raquel writhing under her, moaning her name. Raquel didn’t take long to pinpoint why—it was a kiss driven by feelings, rather than desire. The realisation should have scared her, but instead, she pulled Alicia even closer, feeling the older woman open under the touch of her lips, all of their worries melting away in the taste of each other.

When they parted, faces flushed under the neon lights, Raquel smiled.

“So… how old  _ are  _ you?”

Alicia’s smile was tiny, but genuine. She took Raquel’s hands in her own and squeezed them a little.

“I turned 38 at 10 this morning.”

“Happy birthday.”

As Alicia had guessed, the crowd parted like the Red Sea for them, forming a corridor of people leading straight to the VIP area, which was overflowing with balloons and ribbons. Raquel looked around, her heart every bit as full as if it had all been for her. Alicia deserved this, every bit of it.

She let go of the redhead’s hand to let her greet everyone while she hung back, watching the scene unfold with a smile so big it hurt her cheeks.

“You know, you haven’t known her for a long time, but I have,” Helsinki said as he slid beside her, laying a strong hand on her shoulder. “And she appreciates it, but the party is not the reason why her smile is so big. Take care of her, niña.”

“I will.” That was the truth. Come what may, Raquel loved the side of herself that Alicia brought out, and she loved spending time with Alicia, learning from her in every possible way. She wasn’t letting that go. “As to whether I’ll forgive you for keeping this party a secret from me, that remains to be seen.”

Helsinki let out a loud roar of laughter and patted her shoulder, urging her forward.

“I have to go. Have fun, alright? Tonight, you’re a customer—and a friend.”

The club started to empty out at the break of dawn, and Raquel was stroking Alicia’s hair with a soft smile. The older woman had been laying in her lap for a while now, but neither of them felt the need to move. The alcohol in their blood numbed their muscles enough that they weren’t sore from sitting still for so long, or from dancing for hours. 

They just were. Existing quietly in each other’s company, softly chatting with their friends. Waiting for the daylight to come through the open doors—which wouldn’t happen for a few hours still.

“Thank you. This was an amazing birthday. Maybe the best I’ve ever had,” Alicia mumbled sleepily.

“You’re just saying that because of the cake.”

“Oh, it was so good.”

She must have fallen asleep after that, because she started snoring softly, and Denver threw Raquel a wink that made her blush. This was all so domestic. And God, she liked it.

“Aren’t you scared?” Alicia asked with a frown. She and Raquel had left the club at 9 to go share a coffee somewhere, and though she’d slept two hours, Raquel thought Alicia looked exhausted. But the good kind of exhausted. Fucked out. Messy hair, glossy eyes and chapped lips. She’d never been so beautiful. “Scared of… what we could be?”

Raquel shook her head. The lack of sleep was making Alicia talkative. This was as good a time to have this conversation as any.

“I wouldn’t say scared, no.” She took a sip of coffee to give herself time to think—she didn’t need it. She’d rehearsed the words she was about to say a thousand times, just in case. “I don’t think I’m ready for us to be anything. It’s still very soon. That being said, I love spending time with you and I don’t see why anything should stop us from doing just that.”

Alicia smiled. Her sleepy eyes crinkled at the corners, and Raquel leant over the table to drop a kiss on her lips.

“As long as you keep doing that, I’m okay with that,” the redhead said.

“I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the penultimate chapter of Raquel and Alicia's story.  
> I tried to wrap up everything nicely, and the epilogue will be a fun New Year's bonus.  
> Love you!


	8. Epilogue

“Alicia, dear, do you like champagne?”

“Sí, Señora Fuentes. Gracias. ”

Alicia’s smile was big and bright, and Raquel had so much love for the woman sitting on the couch next to her that she thought she might combust.

She had known Alicia for over a year now, and they had been dating for nine months, so bringing her home to spend New Year’s at Mariví’s had seemed like the obvious thing to do. And now, seeing the two most important women of Raquel’s life interacting, fondness for each other already clear in their voices, she knew this was how things were supposed to be.

Mariví had been a bit taken aback when Raquel had told her about Alicia’s age, but it hadn’t lasted long—she saw how perfectly happy her daughter was, and she wasn’t one to object to that. And now, after less than twenty-four hours spent in each other’s company, they seemed to be the best of friends already, and the atmosphere was joyous as ever.

Raquel’s sister wasn’t there. They usually saw each other for the holidays, being as cordial as they could manage for their mother’s sake, but Laura had thrown a fit over the fact that Raquel was dating a woman, and Mariví had promptly uninvited her, which only served to make everything as perfect as it could possibly be.

“Call me Mariví, please.” She poured champagne into their glasses and they clinked them together. “To new beginnings, and the good things in life. To you, mis niñas.”

They all toasted cheerfully, and Raquel noted how much effort her mother was putting into accepting and welcoming Alicia. It felt so good to be accepted.

Their second round blurred into wine at dinner and, by the time midnight rolled around, all three of them were more buzzed than they’d care to admit. Raquel could tell because she wasn’t cold despite being out on the patio—they’d gone out to smoke, and the cushioned benches were so comfortable that they’d stayed there. Alicia was less shy than she’d been about holding Raquel’s hand, and Mariví spoke just a bit too loud.

Snow was slowly falling all around them, and the Christmas lights still scattered across the snowy garden gave the scene an ethereal feel that fit Raquel’s feelings perfectly. Incredible happiness. 

"Alright, alright. Let’s keep an eye on the time, ladies,” Alicia said. She rolled back her sleeve to get a clear look at her watch. She waited a few seconds, and then… “Tres," she started with a mischievous smile.

"Dos," Marivi continued. Her cheeks were red and her grin was heartwarming.

"Uno," Raquel finished.

" _ Feliz año nuevo _ !" the three of them yelled into the cold air of the patio. Choruses of the same sentence echoed around the neighbourhood. They rose to their feet, pulling one another in short hugs. Raquel’s eyes filled with tears when she saw Mariví engulf a hesitant Alicia into a tight hug.

“Well, come on you two, don’t let me stop you,” Mariví joked as she pulled away, gesturing between Alicia and Raquel. “Los que se besan en Año Nuevo se quedan juntos para siempre, verdad?”

She went back inside with a knowing smile and Raquel’s gaze fell on Alicia’s lips before flickering back to her big brown eyes.

“Juntas para siempre?” she whispered. Was that what Alicia wanted, too? Forever seemed like an awfully long time, but Raquel couldn’t imagine a day where she didn’t love Alicia anymore.

The older woman’s lips against her own were the only answer she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the continued support. It meant everything to me. This epilogue is really short but I just wanted you to have a glimpse into their (very happy) future.


End file.
